


End of an Era

by cleo4u2, xantissa



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Everyone has feelings, Fingering, M/M, Romance, Sassy Steve Rogers, Sex Work, Switching, Tony is a good dude, dub-con, mentions of porn, mostly bottom!Bucky and top!Steve, no actual non-con shown, past rape mentioned, post htp, recovering Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2018-12-30 21:36:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12117711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cleo4u2/pseuds/cleo4u2, https://archiveofourown.org/users/xantissa/pseuds/xantissa
Summary: Hydra programmed Bucky to ensure he could never get far from them, or lead a normal, happy life if he somehow did escape. Sixteen hours. That’s how long he has to find someone to fuck him. Otherwise? Crippling, mind-whitening pain. Bucky gets by with hookers at first, then becomes one, until Steve Rogers finds him again and changes everything.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to our lovely beta [NurseDarry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NurseDarry/profile)!

Bucky knew, sooner or later, that Rogers would find him, he just wished it hadn't happened like it did. His wishes meant nothing though, he knew that, so even that small misfortune wasn’t a total surprise. 

The longer he was out of cryo, out of the chair, the more he remembered. The confusion of the chair was replaced with older, meaner programming that just had him remembering why he had ever welcomed the chair when they had put him in it more often. At least it took his memories, kept the other, older programming from engaging.

It had started with an ache beneath his skin, bone deep, lasting for four hours, and which only got worse if he didn’t do what he had to. That was just a warning, though. The real pain started two hours later, searing him from top to toe, leaving him helpless and writhing in it’s embrace. And what he had to do? What had been trained into him so deeply his body went into paroxysms of pain when he didn’t do it? Getting fucked. The ultimate revenge, the petty, horrible method Hydra had used to make sure that even if he did get away, did run away, he would never be free. He would never be allowed a normal life, happiness, or even a measure of peace. There was no peace for him, not when the only way to stop the agony was to let some stranger fuck him. 

It wasn't even about pleasure. Bucky didn’t know if he had ever enjoyed sex with men, but he sure as hell knew he didn’t like it now. He hated the shame, the disgusting way he had to debase himself for some stranger he neither knew, nor respected. He hated how his body forced him to discard whatever scraps of self-worth he had managed to scrape out from the remnants of his memories. Night after night, when on his back or on his knees with some john, drunk and uncaring, the fresh misery of it obscured whatever good he had experienced during the day. He couldn't help but hate himself, hate his body with an intensity that took his breath away. He hated that he rejoiced in the moment a john pushed his cock into him because that meant no agony for him that night. His body, conditioned like a Pavlov’s dog, flooded him with endorphins, made it feel good on some obscene, twisted level that burned every other thought out of Bucky’s mind for a moment.

Sometimes he wished it lasted longer than that. Sometimes, he didn’t. Most times, Bucky just wished he didn’t have a body at all, that he could be free of this.

He hadn’t been turning tricks at first. That first night, he’d picked up a hooker, but that was money he didn’t have. It also left him feeling worse, forcing someone else into this mockery of pleasure. It had to be pleasure, too. Whatever twisting they’d done to his brain, his body wouldn’t accept the relief as complete until his partner had come inside him. Finished the job. That’s why johns were easier. He made a little money and avoided the agony Hydra had left behind.

As johns went, tonight’s was good. He had showered recently, he was being gentle, and he didn’t want to talk about Bucky’s story, or the arm. He’d also paid up front, the money tucked away in the drawer of the filthy motel they were in. At least the sheets didn’t stink of blood, or mould, just sex and laundry detergent. A repugnant combination, to be sure, but he’d had worse as some john shoved his cock up Bucky’s ass.

Almost immediately, Bucky could feel the pain receding, the programming accepting his behavior. He breathed deeply, relaxing, letting his mind float away, distancing himself from what was happening. Now he had sixteen hours before it it reset again. Sixteen, blissful, pain-free hours.

He recalled trying to withstand it, to not let another guy take a piece of him, and he shuddered. His pain threshold was likely higher than any human alive, but he couldn’t hack it. He’d been writhing on the floor of his tiny apartment, crying and vomiting, soiling himself as the agony burned his mind and body alive. And the solution was so easy, so goddamned easy. Just get on his hands and knees in front of some stranger, just spread his legs and let others use his body like it was nothing. Because it was nothing, since it definitely wasn’t _his_. 

The john took his reaction as enjoyment, thrusting harder, grunting out his own pleasure. Bucky made an effort not to roll his eyes. The guy hadn’t a clue what he was doing. Then again, the last guy who had given Bucky pleasure had nearly died when he had lost control. It had been instinctive, lashing out, his mind telling him he was in Hydra’s clutches. At least he hadn’t killed the guy, but it had been a near thing.

The door crashing in had his john pulling out and Bucky scrambling for the knife he’d tucked beneath the pillow. As he whirled, ready to throw the blade at the Hydra strike team, or the police, or whoever the fuck had broken in, he froze for the only man he couldn’t hurt.

Steve. Rogers. Blue eyes and shock, standing there with his shield and tight jeans, golden hair, and a mind that had never belonged to someone else. Of the three of them, Rogers recovered first, barking, “Get the hell out,” at the john. That would have been fine, Bucky had gotten paid, only… 

The john hadn’t finished, and Bucky’s body was abruptly swamped with agony as the fire burst to life within him. It wasn’t bad yet, but by his timetable he only had half an hour until it was. Yet something must have shown on his face, because Rogers was at his side, a hand on his metal arm as if it was flesh, looking as concerned as a mother hen.

“Bucky?”

Glaring, he shrugged off Rogers’ hand.

“Couldn’t you have at least waited until he was done?” 

Rogers blinked in confusion, eyes huge and innocent as a puppy’s.

“I thought he was hurting you.”

“Hurting me,” Bucky repeated slowly. He allowed his arm to recalibrate, drawing Rogers’ gaze, and asked pointedly, “You thought _he_ was hurting _me_?”

“Well,” Rogers shrugged helplessly, the confusion clear in his voice, “yeah.”

The thought was strange, but touched a part of Bucky he didn’t like to remember existed. Like Rogers thought Bucky could still be hurt more than he was. Like Bucky was someone to be cared for. 

“He was fucking me,” Bucky said crudely.

“I, yeah, I noticed,” Rogers managed, his voice a squeak.

He noticed then, that they were alone in the room. The john had skedaddled when Rogers had barked at him. Great. Fucking great.

“Now I’ll have to find another one,” Bucky grumbled, getting up and looking for his pants.

“What?” Rogers blurted, moving out of Bucky’s way. If he was being honest, he was expecting Rogers to put up a fight about it. Not just… let Bucky do what he wanted.

“And it’s not like I have all that much time for it, _fuck_.” He found his jeans and started pulling them up hurriedly. At this rate he’d have to find some drunken idiot willing to do it right in an alley.

“Time?” Rogers finally got in his way, but didn’t try to touch him, hold him, stop him. “Bucky, slow down. I can’t keep up. Why do you have to find a john? If it’s money -”

“Because,” Bucky interrupted, low and filled with so much hatred it scorched his throat, “my body is not my own. My mind is not my own, and I fucking have to fulfil the programming!” He ended up roaring the words at Rogers, both fists clenching. Yet, Rogers just continued to look perplexed, brows dropped together, not an iota of fear in him.

“Programming that says… you have to have sex?” 

Bucky laughed, remembering the agony he had tried to suffer and what he had had to do to stave it off. It was not sex.

“No,” he said, bitter and dark, his hatred all but scraping his voice raw. “I have to service a man until he comes inside me.” Steve’s face did an entertaining leap, going pale, as his eyebrows flew toward his hairline. “Because Hydra made goddamn sure they would not let me be free of them. Not ever.”

For a moment, Rogers’ mouth opened and closed, a bit like a fish gulping for air on dry land. Then he straightened his shoulders, set the shield deliberately aside, and faced Bucky. Not like before, not cautious and confused, but determined. Like he was squaring off for battle.

“Okay, look, I know you’ve been avoiding me and we… there’s a lot… of stuff between us, but… if you don’t wanna do this,” he motioned with his hand, somehow taking in the dirty hotel room, the discarded condom, rumpled sheets, and Bucky all at once, “we can find another way. Whatever the problem is, we can figure it out, Buck.”

Bucky jerked away, not letting Rogers touch him even when he wasn’t reaching out.

“You think I haven’t tried?” he snarled. “You think it didn’t even cross my mind? You think this is the easiest choice?”

“Bucky!” Steve interrupted as he built up a good head of steam. “Of course, I don’t! But if you don’t want this… I don’t wanna tell you what to do, but… if it’s not this you _want_ , there’s other ways.”

Bucky spread his hands in a mockery of surrender.

“There’s only one way: with somebody’s cock in my ass, Rogers.”

Even though he turned red, Rogers snapped, “I happen to have one of those, Bucky, but if you don’t… if _this_ is better, some stranger, someone you don’t know, I’ll help you find someone and… and we’ll figure it out. You don’t gotta do it alone.”

Bucky let his arms fall, abruptly exhausted beyond measure. Closing his eyes, he started chuckling, the chuckles turning to laughter in a matter of seconds. He kept laughing and laughing, feeling the hysteria encroach on his mind.

Nervously, Rogers asked, “Bucky?”

“So instead of me debasing myself for some john, I get to do that with a fucking audience?”

“That is _so_ not what I meant.” The shocked outrage made Bucky look up, finding Rogers redder than ever. “I meant.. I meant that maybe Tony, or Bruce, might know how to… to remove the programming. _Later_.”

“I have less than two hours, Rogers,” he growled, arm ticking as it recalibrated again, “before I’m a drooling, screaming wreck on the floor, so I don’t have time for ‘plans’ or for ‘later’.”

“If there’s no time, let me help you!” Rogers yelled, his hand reaching for Bucky and freezing halfway to him. “Stop attacking me, and _listen_. I-I’m here.” Rogers’ face flushed again, but eyes steady and honest, watching Bucky unflinchingly. “Let me help.”

“You’re saying you’ll fuck me,” Bucky said flatly, watching the way Rogers flinched minutely at the words. 

Then he squared his shoulders, lifted his chin, and nodded.

“Yes. If it will help, yes.”

Bucky watched the super-soldier, this man who was the only proof that Bucky was ever anything more than Hydra’s attack dog, and thought that he would take the worst kind of scum over this. That he would go on all fours for anybody, a fucking hobo on the streets, just not _him_. Not the last - _only_ thing in his life that wasn't drenched in blood and depravity.

A sharp, burning rush erupted from Bucky’s metal arm, searing down his side. He gasped, doubling over, and at last Rogers touched him, catching him as he fell forward. Bucky must not have had the time right; it was happening sooner than he expected. Digging his hands into Rogers’ forearm, he grunted, closed his eyes, and willed himself to get some control. This wasn’t even the worst of it. 

When he opened his eyes, he found he was on his back, lying on the filthy bed. Rogers was at his side, looking down at him with worried eyes, but he hadn’t gotten naked. He hadn’t tried to just do it, not when Bucky hadn’t agreed. It made something twist in him at the thought that Rogers would never do it, no matter how much pain Bucky was in, unless he said it was all right. When was the last time anyone had offered that to him? He couldn’t say, and his thanks for that was to drag Rogers into the muck with him. Because he had to. He had to say yes - he wasn’t strong enough to go through the pain. Not again, not ever.

“What’s happening?” Rogers asked, a stupid question if Bucky had ever heard one.

“I’m out of time,” he answered anyways. “I need…”

“Okay,” Rogers interrupted, leaning down and pressing a kiss to Bucky’s sweaty brow. “Okay, I’ll take care of you.”

Steve got up, stripping quickly out of his clothing. Seeing Rogers’ perfect, unblemished body, Bucky couldn’t help but focus on that Steve was totally soft. His cock was limp and useless, hanging between his legs. He groaned, squeezing his eyes closed against the next wave of agony that crashed over and through him, making the world go fuzzy again.

When he came back to himself, the pain hadn’t just passed, it was gone. Steve was between his legs, brow creased with concern, leaning on his elbow at Bucky’s hip. The reason the pain was gone was clear: Rogers had two fingers buried to the knuckle inside him. It wouldn’t be enough to keep the pain from returning if he stopped, but for now, Bucky could breathe.

“Better?” Rogers asked, voice gentle and rough, eyes dark with an emotion Bucky didn't want to read right then.

“Yeah,” he managed, his throat raw like gravel. “Yeah, but…”

“I know,” Steve interrupted. “I’ll take care of you, just… every time you open your mouth I want to punch you, and it’s counter productive.”

The words drew a surprised laugh from Bucky’s chest and he found himself relaxing even in this very… odd situation. The sound was cut off as Steve’s lips brushed his thigh, gentle and soft, sending a shiver of pleasure through his body. Inside him, the fingers weren’t moving, just resting, holding him open and taking away his pain. Conversely, his lips kept moving, traveling a vein or a tendon, then flipping to his other thigh and mirroring the movements. It made something squirmy come to life in his stomach, this tenderness, and… pleasure. Bucky swallowed hard, realizing his mistake then, because of course Steve couldn’t just use him. Of _course_ Steve wouldn’t just take, and end the pain, or just get it over with. He had to try and make it into something it wasn’t.

Chapped lips brushed his groin, his hip, his cock, and Bucky gasped, thrashed, white panic wrapped around his mind. This wasn’t right, it wasn’t what he wanted, what he needed. He wouldn’t let them use him like that again, for sport, for their amusement. A freaking party favor. He lashed out, knee slamming into the side of Roger’s head, body twisting like a live wire, seeking freedom, contact, anything to grab onto. 

Rogers reacted faster than any human Bucky had ever fought - hell, faster than _Bucky_ \- twisting, lunging up, pressing the whole bulk of his shoulder between his legs, forcing them apart even as his hand caught Bucky’s metal arm. Rogers’ muscles strained as he caused the arm to whine with effort when he slowly pushed it back, back against the bed, holding it down by pure force, twisting Bucky half onto his side, taking away the leverage of his flesh arm and keeping him immobilised. 

At first, Bucky thrashed, all combat training forgotten, only blind, animalistic fury left. He snarled and struggled, perfectly willing to dislocate his arms if necessary. 

“Stop!” The order was barked out in the strongest command tone he’d ever heard. Despite his panic, Bucky obeyed, freezing in place. “Do you need me to hold you down?” The voice was still strong, still more of a command than a question and Bucky panted, trying to regain his mind, to _think_. 

“I…” he trailed off, unsure as his mind continued to reel. Now that he wasn’t in a blind panic, Bucky couldn’t believe that Rogers could and would hold him down like a misbehaving kitten if he had to. And he had had to. Bucky could kill, almost had killed a man by accident, because of the same trigger, and this… He stared at Rogers above him, the stubborn set of his jaw, the way his muscles tensed as he held down the metal arm. 

Bucky exhaled, some of the tension leaving his shoulders from the relief that he wouldn’t have to be responsible for the other party. He could let go of the ever-present fear that in doing this he would only end up with more blood on his hands, and it left him dizzy. He was safe, Rogers would make sure of it.

Rogers wasn’t doing anything else, just holding him down, keeping him secure, and waiting for Bucky to come to a decision. It occurred to him, that because of how Rogers was approaching this whole sordid affair, Bucky now had more control over what was happening, while simultaneously freeing him of all responsibility. Bucky was tired of planning these demeaning little encounters, of making sure nothing went wrong, of always being _on_. This… this could be so much more than the hated, momentarily release. This could work. Maybe, when it was over, he wouldn’t even hate himself more than he already did. Somehow, Rogers was willing to give to what Bucky believed he'd lost a long time ago. Peace of mind; maybe not complete, but so much more than he believed he could ever have.

And he’d done it while leaving two fingers buried in Bucky’s ass, keeping the pain at bay.

“Just fuck me,” Bucky said tiredly. “Don’t try… Just that, okay?”

Steve grimaced.

“Bucky, I… I don’t think I can do that…?”

Bucky glared.

“Is that a fucking question?” 

To his surprise and relief, Steve glared back.

“I’ve never exactly been in this situation before -”

“You're a goddamn virgin?!” Bucky interrupted, making as if to sit up and Rogers pushed him down again, none too gently this time.

“For fucks sake, you ornery asshole,” Steve snapped. “Didn’t I tell you to shut up? I am only _mostly_ sure I can’t even get hard right now because this? You in pain and angry? It’s doing shit all for me, okay?”

“Can't you just... jerk off or something?” Bucky asked petulantly.

“No, Bucky,” Steve said, like he was talking to an irritating child, “I can’t. I’m not a fucking sadist, or a fucking asshole. _Sorry_ for that. So very fucking sorry.”

Bucky glared at the ceiling, cracked and covered in cobwebs and asked, “Did you just apologize for not being an asshole?”

“Yes, because you can’t stop being one, apparently.” Steve blew out a hard breath, sending his bangs bouncing. “So, how do we figure this out? I mean, I’m pretty sure I can sit here with my fingers in your ass for a long time, but I’m worried there’s some time limit to this.”

Snorting with amusement, Bucky shrugged his flesh shoulder since the metal one was still pinned above his head.

“I’ve never had it where the other guy doesn’t wanna actually shove his dick in my ass,” he said petulantly. It was kind of hard to believe that it could even be a problem. Ever. It’s not like guys needed much encouragement to get hard anyway. 

“It’s not… exactly… that,” Steve said slowly. “It’s just… you’re hurting and you’re angry and…” Steve’s lips brushed along his shoulder, whisper soft, and Bucky shuddered. Like the reaction was a shock from a taser, Steve pulled back. “Yeah, that’s just… a real turn-off.”

“Fair enough,” Bucky admitted with a grumble. 

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and tried to relax, tried to force his body to accept that Steve wasn’t a threat. The only threat in this room was him, and Steve wasn’t exactly bad in the looks department. He had all kinds of muscle, and his stupid hair was kind of perfect and soft looking. His lips were definitely soft, if a little rough with windburn. 

Though it wasn't hard, his cock was impressive, pink and swinging low between his legs. And he smelled good. Clean, the scent of soap still clinging to his skin. A hint of cologne still following him. It all made for an attractive figure, more attractive than any john or hooker Bucky had had until then.

“You can touch me if you want,” he said at last, “but only if you make sure I can’t lash out if I freak out.”

“I can hold you down,” Rogers promised, completely confident, “but it’ll be easier if we move a bit. Can I let you up?”

“Yeah,” he agreed and was pleased when the hand holding him down retreated slowly, ready to grab him again in a moment. “How do you want me?”

“I, um,” Rogers began, then answered by moving Bucky into place. He grabbed his hips, lifting and twisting so he was lying on his side, but then shoved his shoulder down, pulling his arms from under his torso so he had no leverage to lift himself up and his ass was pushed out, presented for Rogers’ use. “Rather have you on your back, but,” he muttered, “whatever you need, Buck.”

Bucky didn’t answer, not when Rogers _still_ had his fingers inside him, hadn’t once needed to be told to keep them there. Rogers would give him what he needed, and if he was being honest with himself, Bucky preferred it this way. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be facing Rogers when it came to doing the deed. This man might be his choice, might be the best option he had available, but some small part of Bucky still didn't want him involved in this mess. He remembered the shadowless, all but innocent smiles Rogers had bestowed on his friend in that museum clip. He didn't want to tarnish that memory for either of them.

He was going to anyway.

Gathering up Bucky’s metal and flesh wrists behind his back, Rogers held both in his huge palm, and then sent a jolt through Bucky’s body as his lips ran down his spine. Goosebumps erupted in their wake and Bucky shuddered, but quickly whispered, “It’s okay,” when Rogers pulled away. “S’good.”

“Yeah?” Steve whispered back, breath ghosting against Bucky’s nape. Instead of answering, Bucky hummed because it did feel good. Especially being held like he was, hands pinned, no way to hurt Steve, even by accident.

“Just make sure your hold is tight,” he warned, mouth dry. Bucky couldn’t remember the last time another person had made him feel good.

Steve squeezed, hard, and Bucky shivered again, and the tension gathered in his shoulders unspooled. Over and over, shivers wracked his body as Rogers’ lips trailed over his skin, his hand occasionally squeezing, reminding Bucky he hadn’t let go, hadn’t forgotten. He was safe like this. He could let go and let it happen, let Rogers take care of him. He closed his eyes and pressed his face into the threadbare pillowcase.

“Bucky?” Rogers asked worriedly.

“This is good,” he assured, not twisting to look at Rogers. “It works.”

“Yeah?” The hope in Rogers’ voice surprised him, as did the lips on his hip because Rogers must have really had to twist to get his head there. “Anything else you like, Buck?”

Bucky snorted into the pillows.

“What?” Bucky did twist about now, to look over his shoulder at Rogers.

“What?” Rogers echoed, blinking at him innocently.

“You expect me to tell you what I like? My preferences?”

“Well, yeah,” Steve said slowly. “If you got any. Not like I’m a mind reader, and I thought we just went over this.”

“I was a prisoner for Hydra for the last seventy years,” he said plainly. “Where exactly did you see a space for any consensual sex in there?”

Rogers blinked at him slowly, then glared, like _Bucky_ was the one who had been an asshole.

“I dunno, Buck, maybe beforehand, or after. Again. I am not a mind reader, and thanks, by the way, there goes my hard-on _again_. Are you _trying_ to make this more difficult for me? Because if you are, kudos, it’s going splendidly.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and flopped back onto the pillow.

“It was going okay until you opened your mouth and asked me a stupid question.”

“About if you _like_ anything? Fuck you, Bucky.”

Bucky wriggled.

“That’s _supposed_ to be the plan!” 

Steve’s head thumped onto Bucky’s back and he groaned, loudly. 

“I like not being in pain,” Bucky snapped. Rogers flinched, and Bucky forced himself to take a deep breath, reminding himself that Rodgers wasn't here to hurt him, this wasn't part of any power-play. He was here to help. “I don't remember, okay? Just bits and pieces, here and there. Not even the whole time I was with Hydra. So if I liked anything, it’s gone now.”

“You’re trying to be nice and all,” Steve said as Bucky studied the colors in the pillowcase, “but I need to point out that _you could have just said no._ ”

Bucky thumped his head again. Twice. Then Rogers twisted his hold, shoving him hard into the pillow and Bucky felt his breath leave him all at once. In this position, with the way he was pushed down, he could barely twitch, let alone get leverage. Even if he’d been trying, his hips were twisted and he couldn’t get up. He was stuck, held down, and… okay, yeah, that was kind of doing it?

“That,” Bucky gasped, “do that.”

For a moment, Rogers was silent with surprise, and then he leaned down again. Pinning Bucky, just like he’d asked.

“Like that?”

“Yeah,” Bucky panted, breathless from the way it had become hard to draw air, “like that.”

“Good, now shut up,” Rogers snapped and pushed Bucky’s face into the pillow for good measure. 

Bucky growled under his breath, but said nothing, afraid the good Captain would lose his hard on, _again_. It really wasn’t supposed to be this fucking difficult to get laid. Then again, he wasn’t sure he’d met anyone quite so infuriating. The thing about that was, though, no one had reacted to him like Rogers was now. It was either fear, or contempt, or leering. No arguing, no insults that felt more like endearments, and sure as hell Bucky hadn't felt… relaxed.

As Bucky mused, Steve’s hand roamed his back and hip, caressing more skin than Bucky was used to. It wasn’t bad, felt nice even, but what really made Bucky’s cock take notice was when he tried to shift, get some pillow out of his nose, and Steve leaned back in. Stopping him. Holding him down. Bucky had to bite his lip to hold in a moan, shocked by his own reaction. Yet, he liked it. He liked the feeling of that warm body stretched out over his back, the strength of Steve’s grip. Nobody, no single person, had ever managed to hold him down. There had been either multiple people and guns, or heavy-duty restraints involved. This? Feeling all that power so close to him? Made him feel alive. Made it _different_.

“Like that?” Steve purred in his ear, his hand suddenly moving within him. “You can fight me, Buck. You won’t get free.”

Shuddering, Bucky hesitated, but Steve’s fingers found just the right spot and he bucked, trying to find purchase with his hips, trying to get up and free. Steve just held on, rode him back down, fingers still moving, maddeningly, within him. Bucky gasped, moaned, and Steve pressed his fingers deeper, harder, faster.

“Jesus,” Bucky swore, then shivered as Steve licked along the back of his neck. Good, then. Something about this was doing it for Steve, though Bucky wasn’t sure what. Didn’t want to know, really, so long as…

Bucky gasped as the thought struck him: so long as he didn’t stop.

Experimentally, Bucky twisted and Steve countered, keeping him down. Bucky groaned, breathing hard, and realized it wasn’t the only hard thing about him. He couldn’t remember being aroused with another person… ever. Not without someone making him. Now, he ached, pushed back against Steve’s fingers, and moaned again when Steve’s leg looped over his own and tightening, constricting, holding him in place.

“I got ya,” Rogers whispered in his ear and Bucky groaned. “Ready?”

Nodding frantically, Bucky closed his eyes tightly and forced himself to hold still. The first push in wasn't anything new. Bucky was used to it by now after having been fucked every night for as long as he could remember. It was different this time, though. Not the sensation of the hard head breaching him, or the length stretching his hole as it sank in slowly, or the universal relief it brought him each and every time, but the _situation_. He was calmer. He felt better, _good_ , the contact bringing him more than just relief. He listened to the stuttered breathing of the man behind him, focused on the warm, strong palm gripping his wrists. Nobody was ever strong enough to do this, nobody in his memories. This was new and, because of it, better.

“God, you feel good, Buck,” Rogers panted in his ear. “Never felt nothin’ like it.” He moaned again, and then slid a hand up Bucky’s side to the back of his neck. “Come on, I got’cha. Make me prove it.”

That Steve _understood_ nearly took Bucky’s breath away, but he didn’t dwell on it. He struggled, gasping as Steve’s hand and leg tightened, his grip on Bucky’s nape like iron holding him down. And he kept thrusting, kept fucking into that spot that was driving him wild, faster and faster as Steve lost that tight control and really started pounding. Bucky was pretty sure it was going to be over soon, which was good, because this as all becoming so overwhelming. Steve around him, inside him, his cock throbbing and his skin alive - Bucky couldn’t process it all. It was too _much_ , too intense, too… _everything_.

“Bucky!” Steve shouted, making Bucky’s ears ring, and collapsed atop him at the same time as heat flooded his insides in blessed release. Yet, even now, Steve didn’t let go, holding on, pinning Bucky to the bed as he panted into his ear. Keeping him safe, like he had promised.

There was a moment of peace, of quiet, where the world shrunk to that warm presence on his back, the firm hand around his wrists, the heated cock still inside him. Just that. Presence and touch, the smell of sweat and clean skin in his nose.

Slowly Steve let go of his wrists, let him bring his arms to a more comfortable position in front of his chest, and murmured, “Want me to… you know? Help you finish?”

“No,” Bucky said slowly, shying away from more stimulation and surprised himself by the truth of his next words, “I’m… good. I’m real good. Thank you.”

Snorting, apparently offended by _something new_ , Steve sat up and pulled out. 

“Don’t worry, with the serum, if you needed it three times a day I could oblige with no _hardship_.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Bucky grumbled, reaching out and grabbing Steve’s hand. The touch had the tall, muscled super-soldier pausing, looking down at Bucky in surprise. “I mean… it was _good_ and… it’s not usually… and…”

“Hey,” Steve’s voice softened, gentled, and he just said, “you’re welcome. Anytime, okay?”

“Sixteen hours,” Bucky murmured, stretching out beside Steve.

Steve blanched.

“I don't think I can keep it up for sixteen hours.”

“No, you punk,” Bucky swatted lazily at Steve’s naked thigh and then blinked when he was just smiled at. “You _shit_ , you knew what I meant!”

“Yeah,” Steve answered easily, “but I’m gonna have to ask you to come home with me.” 

Bucky turned his face into the bedding, pretending to stretch again. Come home, where? To the place of his fragmented memories? To a new place, controlled by some other shadowy agency that only remembered human rights when it suited them? To face people who saw him as a murderer, a mindless beast? Living like this, as a cheap whore in the darkest part of the city had its drawbacks. He was pretty sure Hydra could track him simply because he couldn't remain anonymous when looking for johns, and people tended to remember the arm. So if they knew where to look, and they damn well did, finding him wouldn't be all that hard. Steve’s home… Was he talking about the Avengers? He felt his heart slow, become colder at the thought of parading his broken self in front of them.

He must have been quiet too long, because Steve’s hand ghosted up along his spine.

“It’s not an ultimatum, Buck,” Steve murmured. “I didn’t mean it like that and I’m sorry. I only meant, a sixteen-hour schedule will be hard to keep if you’re not nearby. I’m kind of called on at really weird hours. If you can’t… we’ll figure something else out, I’m just worried I won’t make it all the time if you aren’t with me.”

He sighed, turning back to Steve and looked up at him. Some part of him knew he should react more, feel more in the presence of a man he had just had sex with, but that part was buried under years of the existence that he’d led. 

“We could try I guess,” he allowed. “I don’t want to be too close to your… friends. But you’re right, with this schedule there’s no way we can just meet up.”

“You could keep doing this,” Steve said, as sincerely as if it really was up to Bucky. As if he had a choice. “We could maybe get you set up with something nicer? Like… a website or something? And an apartment? If… if that’s what you want.” Something wavered in Steve’s voice and he rushed to add, “I’ll help you, I want to help you, however you want me to.”

Bucky studied him, looking for hints of dishonesty and finding none.

“I hooked because that was the easiest way to fulfill the programming, not because I like it,” he answered finally, still watching Steve closely. “If I can switch to just one partner, one that I can’t hurt accidentally, then that’s what I want.”

The smile that broke out on Steve’s face was brilliant, surprising Bucky. What was even stranger was Steve just didn’t say okay, he leaned down and kissed Bucky’s forehead. 

“You don’t have to ever see my friends, I promise.”


	2. Chapter 2

Bucky looked at his duffle, then to the huge, empty closet, and back again. His whole life fit into one duffle. How in hell did Steve think he had anything to even fill this closet? Actually, this wasn’t even the only closet in the bedroom. It felt… intimidating. Like this wasn't the place for him at all. Yet he could almost see Steve’s stupid mug and the face he’d pull if he tried to back out now: sad and pouty, those stupid blue eyes big and watery as he said okay and found Bucky somewhere else to live.

Sighing, Bucky rubbed his eyes and forced himself to grab the first thing in the duffle and hang it up. Soon there were only twenty empty hangars and an entire drawer full of stuff, which left eighty percent of the closet empty. For fucks sake, who needed this much space? Sure as hell not the Steve he had in his few memories of before… everything.

“Hey, Buck?”

Bucky nearly leapt out of his skin at Steve’s voice, twisting to see just his head and a single shoulder poking around the side of the door. The pins and needles under his skin flared, reminding him of his schedule.

“What?” Bucky snapped, irritated at the apartment and Steve and Hydra and… everything.

“My timer went off, so, um, we’ve got about a half hour before your sixteen hours are up.”

“You set a timer already?” Bucky blurted. When Steve just blinked at him innocently, Bucky rolled his eyes. “Of fucking course you did. Well, Mr. Smart Guy, you’re off by about thirty five minutes.”

“Oh,” Steve said, like he was told his cassarole was overcooked. “I’ll adjust, but.” Instead of finishing, his eyebrows drew together in a frown and he stepped into the room. “You’re in pain?”

Baring his teeth in a mockery of a smile, Bucky declared, “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“‘Course not.” 

Bucky dropped the grin, narrowing his eyes at Steve, but couldn’t see any trace of mockery. “But if my timer’s off again, you’ll come find me?”

“Such a hero,” Bucky snapped, arm clicking. “Always ready to put your body on the line.”

Why he was so angry with Steve, he couldn’t say, but it probably had something to do with the way Steve just _smiled_ at him. 

“Told you,” Steve pushed off the doorframe and walked slowly towards Bucky, “ain’t no hardship. Haven’t you ever looked in a mirror?”

Bucky felt thrown by Steve’s reactions. Either he hadn’t caught the barb in his words, or was just ignoring it. The last thing he had expected was a goddamn compliment. He stared at Steve, feeling something tight curl up in his chest. 

“I prefer not to look,” he said, voice a little hoarse. Why would he want to look at his own face. Why would he ever want to look at this remnant of a human, this shell that remained after Hydra?

Steve stopped in front of him, hand coming so slowly to rest on his hip he had plenty of time to move away if he had wanted to. Part of him did, but he could feel the heat through his clothes.

“Then I’ll look for both of us, if that’s alright?” 

Scowling, Bucky thought of a hundred different sharp words to say, but what came out was, “We weren’t like this?”

“No, we weren’t. Can I kiss you?”

Bucky shrugged. It was a strange request, and Bucky didn’t see why not. It wasn’t like he expected much from it anyway. 

“Sure.” 

Lips turning up in a pleased smile, the hand Steve didn’t have on Bucky’s hip lifted to the back of his head, cupping his nape. Bucky had a moment to wonder if Steve was always that hot, when he stepped in, closed his eyes, and pressed his lips to Bucky’s. It was softer than he expected, yet still rough from how chapped Steve’s lips were. He exhaled, pressed back experimentally, and was surprised when Steve’s lips moved with his so easily. Naturally.

Steve pulled back, glanced up into Bucky’s eyes, and whatever he saw had him smile once more, then dive in for another kiss. It was easier to kiss back this time, to relax in Steve’s arms, and he let out a breath of air he hadn’t realized he had been holding. As if that was a sign, Steve’s lips parted to allow his tongue to sweep over Bucky’s lower lip.

Inhaling sharply, Bucky lifted both hands to Steve’s shoulders and held on tight. Again, Steve smelled of soap, clean skin and laundry detergent. He smelled soft and warm; so different from anyone he’d been with… ever. As his tongue traced the seam of Bucky’s lips, he felt his knees go weak and gasped, even knowing as he did, it gave Steve access to his mouth. Steve didn’t thrust in immediately, however, he licked carefully at his lips, just inside his mouth, until their tongues brushed. Then he groaned and Bucky’s knees went weak as he seemed to chase after it, curling about it, then darting away. It was maddening, made his entire mouth tingle, and his heart race. 

The hand on his hip tightened and Steve pulled him closer, before curling his arm about his back. Bucky didn’t resist. He liked the closeness, which was a surprise in and of itself. How could he have missed it? Yet now he had it, it made so much sense. It was nothing like any touch he remembered. So soft and safe. He wanted more. 

That realisation brought with itself a second, a harsher one. Was he even worth it? Could he have it? Was he allowed after all that he had done, all the pain that he had caused? Whatever the answer, when Steve pulled back, Bucky leaned, keeping contact until he had no choice and their lips parted. Steve was smiling, eyes brilliantly bright, as he brought his up and brushed the pad across his lower lip.

“So kissing is good,” Steve said.

Bucky looked at Steve carefully. 

“Why wouldn’t it be?” He looked at Steve’s lips. “Am I such a bad kisser?”

“No, you are a _great_ kisser; thus my statement.” Leaning back, he hooked his hands to Bucky’s belt loops. “Alright, preference to your bedroom or mine?”

“None.”

“Okay, well…” Steve looked thoughtful as he pulled Bucky to the bed. “So before we get started, can I ask why you freaked out when I licked you? Or when I was gentle? Maybe I can avoid that this time.”

Bucky looked at Steve’s expectant eyes, then at the wall behind Steve’s shoulder. He licked his lips.

“This whole thing,” he waved his hand vaguely between the two of them, “was intended as punishment, a way to control me; destroy me. Just another game among many.” He laughed bitterly and watched Steve’s mask fall into place, the one that meant he didn’t want Bucky to know what he was feeling. “I wasn’t supposed to _enjoy_ it, you know? I don’t remember the details, but the way I freak out is usually what they called successful aversion therapy.” He swallowed, thinking of all the other things they hadn’t wanted him to do. “So if you want to make me feel good, there’s no real way to avoid it.”

Despite his mask, Steve’s voice was sad when he said, “Okay, then we’ll avoid that as much as we can.”

“I don’t mind, you know,” Bucky said quickly, surprising himself with the outburst. “I might get triggered, yeah, but as long as I know you can keep me contained… It’s like sticking it to them, you know?”

Steve grinned slow, showing all his teeth.

“Yeah. Then…” For a moment he went quiet, thinking. “Then I’ll ask if I can try something, like the kissing. If you know you hate it, we won’t do it. If you don’t know, we’ll try it, and if you get triggered we’ll… do this? Talk about it and maybe you’ll want me to try again anyway?” Steve’s big hands landed on Bucky’s shoulders as he swallowed. “The last thing I want is to hurt you, okay? So… that’s what _I’m_ saying no to, and this is the only way I know how to get around a mutual lack of experience.”

“I can tell you my hard nope’s, if you want.”

“Yes,” Steve said quickly, surprising Bucky a little. “Anything will help.”

Maybe it was messed up to expect Steve to fix him, maybe it was downright naive to think there was any way to fix him at all, but it was better than what he’d had before. After hitting rock bottom, the only way left for him was up.

“Okay,” Bucky agreed, taking a deep breath; calming himself before he and Steve ended up in another snarkfest. Then he started talking.

\----

A week later, Steve had tried dozens of things, some with success and others, well, not. New positions, varying touches from caresses to licking to mild pain. It was the most varied Bucky’s sex life had been in, well, ever. If nothing else, he had to commend the effort Steve was putting into this. Though, to be honest, he was starting to look forward to these ‘sessions’, even enjoying them. 

Steve was nothing like Bucky expected. In his memories, as fragmented as they were, Steve was a hero, a paragon of justice and righteousness. Someone not exactly… human. The irony of it stung when he realised he was looking at Steve through the labels placed upon him, the same way Hydra had looked at him, calling him a weapon. Rogers was human. He was fallible, but honest and infinitely patient with Bucky. He tried so very hard to find a solution to Bucky’s problem, and that had changed the way Bucky looked at him. Fixing Bucky was not a way to gain an upper hand, nor was it a hated obligation. Bucky also liked how human, how ordinary Steve’s approach was; that he was willing to admit that something wasn’t working for him, even if Bucky had no opinion either way. It made him feel like the only thing keeping them from being equals was the damn trigger itself.

The only strange part was that Steve hadn’t taken Bucky on his back. Not once, despite all his gestures and intimate intentions. They’d had enough sex now that Bucky knew it was intentional and, for a moment, he’d wondered if Steve just didn’t want to look him in the eye. Then he had remembered how they had started, the first time they’d tried, and Steve had had him on his back then. Never again, not because Steve didn’t want it, because the asshole thought _Bucky_ didn’t want it.

As wrong-footed as this sudden and unexpected change in his life left him, Bucky didn’t want to lose this chance. He was tired of Steve behind his back and maybe even curious what it would be like face-to-face. He had all of Steve’s sounds memorized already: the half-choked off grunt he gave when he pushed in for the first time, or the almost pained sounding gasp when he came, but Bucky… he wanted to _see_ it. To see the faces Steve made, how pleasure looked on him, but that meant he was going to have to ask, and that was a daunting thought. Of course, Steve would say yes; Bucky knew he wanted to do anything to make it better for Bucky. The thing was, he’d never been allowed preferences, or requests with Hydra, and it had flashbacks of punishments swimming in his head just thinking about it, the apprehension all but a live creature inside his chest.

Not that he would let Hydra win, not even with something like this.

Taking a breath, reminding himself his nerves were baseless and stupid, Bucky pushed open Steve’s office door. The room was between his and Steve’s bedrooms, sleek and modern, decorated by Tony with Steve in mind. There was a computer, journals, painting supplies, heavy curtains, and landscape paintings. If the furniture hadn’t been metal and glass, Bucky thought it would have fit Steve to a T.

“How about you fucking me on my back for a change?” he fired off as soon as his foot set inside the door.

“Hey to you, too, Buck,” Steve said, looking up from his book. Before he’d spoken, his face had been blank for a moment, but any surprise or shock was gone now, replaced by exasperation. 

“Yes? No?” Bucky faltered, staring at Steve as Steve stared back and the anxiety built in his chest. “Um, hey.”

Lips twitching upward, Steve put the book down and stood.

“I’d like that. You sayin’ it’s time already?”

Bucky shifted, not willing to admit aloud that the timeline was shortening every time they did this. 

“I don't like leaving things for last minute,” he obfuscated. It wasn’t a lie... it just wasn't the whole truth.

“Sure, pal,” Steve glanced at the clock, then turned to him completely. Stepping around his desk, Steve placed a hand on Bucky’s hip and pulled him into a quick kiss. “You can ask for anything, you know that, right?”

“You’ve said,” Bucky said, trying for dry and irritated, but sounding more breathless. 

For once, Steve didn’t keep talking. He kept his hand on Bucky, pulling him along toward his bedroom. He wasted no time once they were inside pulling Bucky back into a kiss, then another, these harder than the chaste, sweet thing he’d gotten in the office. They were full of passion, open mouthed, Steve’s lips and tongue trying to devour Bucky’s mouth as he stripped them of their clothes, tossing aside shirts and pants and underwear until they were both naked.

Bucky wondered, briefly, why Steve had hidden the passion in the office, but showed it here. He didn’t mind the desire, or the way Steve’s hands dragged over his skin, the way his breath shortened with each kiss. It had his own blood heating, breathing growing rough, and even made his cock twitch. No one had gotten his body to react like that, not with just some kissing and petting. By the time Steve walked him back to the bed, pushing him onto it, Bucky was even half-hard. 

The more they did this, the more Bucky found himself looking forward to the next time he’d have Steve’s hands and mouth on him. Just a short week and Bucky was almost enjoying it, though he shouldn’t have been surprised. When Steve set his mind to something, it got done, and he’d taken Bucky’s mission to stick it to Hydra seriously. Not that Bucky had finished with him, not yet. It was still too overwhelming, all that sensation, pleasure, but he’d also realized it would happen eventually. It was as inevitable as Steve finding him again.

As if they’d practiced it, Steve pinned his hands above his head, parting Bucky’s legs with his knees. Bucky spread them wider, sliding his leg up Steve’s side, enjoying the feeling of warm, soft skin and sparse hair. This close, in this position, he could smell the unique scent of Steve's skin: soap with barely a hint of aftershave. It was this scent, more than anything, that had him relaxing. Bucky had done enough research to know that scent had played a huge part in the deepest subconscious memories. Bucky wondered how it could be true they’d never been like this before Hydra if that scent made the tight spool of tension and wariness inside his chest unwind.

Steve seemed just a little lost with the new position, kissing Bucky and trying to find a good way to hold him down. He crossed Bucky’s wrists, then closed his hand over both. The pupils of his eyes had swallowed the blue, aroused and wanting, his eyes sliding all over Bucky. No place was off limits, and Bucky abruptly felt like he was being memorized as they went from Bucky’s face to his chest, to his neck, to the scarred expanse of his shoulder, and lower, between his legs.

Only, he wasn’t pining Bucky too effectively, not like he had during their previous encounters. Twisting, the arm whirred, and Steve’s focus snapped to his face. Bucky barred his teeth and pushed off the bed, needing to be sure Steve had him before they started, that he wasn’t a danger to Steve, or any other innocent person he might meet in a fugue state. 

Steve just narrowed his eyes and let go of his arms, but before Bucky could register the shock of it, he had Bucky by the throat. It was tight, his breath constricted just enough to feel his own pulse fluttering against Steve’s large palm. He grabbed Steve’s wrist with his metal hand, but Steve just tightened. Bucky _could_ break the bones there, but not before he’d lost consciousness, not with where Steve’s fingers were just above his artery. If worst came to absolute worst, Steve could crush his trachea. The knowledge was enough to have Bucky relax into the grip, the sense of security he needed returning.

“Put your hands back above your head,” Steve ordered in his command voice, the one Bucky tried not to think about after he'd heard it that first time, in that dingy hotel, telling him to stop. 

Slowly, Bucky put both his hands above his head, crossed at the wrists like Steve had placed them. Only then did he realize his lips were parted, his breathing heavy, and his cock had filled, pressing against Steve's hip. Steve certainly noticed, licking his lips, hand flexing about Bucky’s throat experimentally, not tight enough to hurt or to cut off his air, but making breathing a real effort. It shouldn’t have been as arousing as it was, not with his history, not with everything that had been done to him, but… Bucky liked it. He liked knowing Steve had this power over him, could stop him if he wanted; literally had Bucky’s life in his hands. He shouldn’t have liked it… but he did, and Steve knew.

Steve moved over Bucky, all power and smooth skin, pressing at his hip to make Bucky spread his legs even further, pushing outwards and up, giving Steve access to his body. Goosebumps rose on Bucky’s skin as Steve’s wide palm then slid down his thigh, to his groin, before the fingertips gently brushed between his cheeks. 

“Not made of glass,” he muttered, hoping Steve would hurry up and stop his infernal teasing.

“God, the mouth on you,” Steve growled, hand flexing on Bucky’s throat. “Maybe I just like touching you, huh?”

“Yeah, you can touch _more_ ,” Bucky grumbled, nudging Steve’s side with his knee. Gently. Mostly.

“Like this?” Steve asked, pressing his fingers harder against Bucky’s hole. “Or like this?” He pulled away, but returned in a moment, thumb tugging, pulling at Bucky’s rim. “There’s not even lube, Buck. You sure what you want is more?”

“I can take you,” Bucky said roughly. And he _could_. He had experience, he had been fucked daily for years now. Between whatever Hydra had pumped him, the incredible flexibility of his muscles, and his experience, he could easily take Steve just like this, right now.

“Didn’t say you _couldn’t_ ,” Steve huffed, but Bucky didn’t like the way his eyes had softened, “said did you _want it_ , ‘cause lube’s right there. We got time and you know I like it. I know _you_ like it, too, my fingers in you.” Steve pushed just a little harder, the tip of his thumb slipping inside Bucky. “I find that spot and you nearly writhe off the bed.”

Bucky huffed.

“I would prefer you did it with your cock.” 

He nudged Steve again. As much as he liked what Steve was doing to him, he always felt better when Steve fucked him. Then the conditions for his triggers were fulfilled and there was no pain his immediate future.

Rolling his eyes, Steve pulled his fingers away and reached over Bucky to the bedside table. As he grabbed the lube, he mumbled, “I’m at least putting lube on my dick, you impatient ass.”

“Yes, focus more on my ass and your dick.” Bucky arched his back, pressing against Steve’s hand and held in a groan as Steve’s grip tightened again. “Come on, already.”

“Hold your fuckin’ horses,” Steve growled, but Bucky could hear the laugh in his voice. The sound of the lube opening and squelching filled the room as Steve poured it into his hand, then stroked it up and down his cock. “Lucky I’m hard already, Christ.”

Bucky didn’t answer, just nudged Steve a third time. It wasn’t luck; he’d noticed Steve got harder sooner every time they did this. Maybe a Pavlov’s dog reaction, or maybe it was the kissing. They were doing a lot more kissing to start off, and the awkward phase had faded away. Maybe it was all those things, but it was for the best. The sooner he could have Steve inside him the better.

Slapping at Bucky’s thigh, Steve sat back on his heels and lined up with Bucky’s entrance. Since he was getting what he wanted, Bucky relaxed, arching his back to give Steve a better angle, and closed his eyes. This was, admittedly, his favorite part. Steve’s hand around his throat just made it different, better, as his body slowly opened around Steve’s head, adjusting to let him in. It helped that Steve was good at this. Bucky liked the firm, slow pressure, and the way he pushed past any resistance and into Bucky so smoothly. There was no hesitation, no jerky movements, no fumbling. Bucky had always liked competence, and when his breath left him in a rush, he thanked the heavens for how _competent_ Steve was.

“There,” Steve grunted as he bottomed out, “happy now?”

Bucky stretched out, pushing his head back, and sliding his leg against Steve’s thigh, the tension finally falling away, letting him truly relax, and even enjoy this. Now he knew, deep in his bones, that Steve would come and the pain wouldn’t.

“Yeah,” he said harshly, groaning softly at how good the heavy cock felt in him, the stretch of it, and the _presence_. “I’m peachy.” He squeezed his muscles around Steve, rewarding him for being nice, and hooked his legs just above Steve’s ass. “You were bragging about finding that spot?” 

“Jesus,” Steve cursed. Then he leaned forward, propping his hand above Bucky’s head. “Yeah, Buck, I know where it is.” Slowly he pulled out, then thrust in and lightning shot up Bucky’s spine. “Right, um, there.”

Bucky groaned again, just as quietly, arching his back and hoping to keep the angle right. The slow slide of Steve’s cock brushed his prostate when he thrust in. Bucky even liked the way he pulled out, slow and sure, cock dragging over his his sensitive nerves again. Then it started over, harder, but not hurried. The pleasure was spreading warmth in his belly and cock, slowly building. 

It always left him a little unsure, fear raising its ugly head and thinking too much would have him freak, or black out. Bucky hated those episodes when he didn't remember what he did, when he couldn’t control his body, and that knowledge was souring his pleasure each and every time. But Steve wouldn't let him out of the room, would hold him down. He had proved that he was more than capable, still had his hand around Bucky’s throat, so Bucky tried to relax and let the sensation wash over him. 

A frown creased Steve’s brow and Bucky realized something of what he’d been feeling must have shown on his face. As he thrust, Steve had been staring at him, eyes flicking over his face. Bucky forgot sometimes, that Steve had known him longer than he’d known himself, and would see, would know. He was just thinking fucking face-to-face was a terrible idea when Steve didn’t stop, ask the question Bucky knew he wanted to ask, but leaned down and kissed him hard, biting at his lip, and then just as abruptly pulling away.

“Steve?” Bucky asked before he could stop himself, but Steve just shook his head and shifted again. Instead of bracing on the bed, he braced against the headboard, pulled out and slammed back in. The thrust took his breath way and Bucky arched off the bed. He had liked the slow fucking, the depth of it, the angel and the scent of Steve’s sweat right in his nose, but this? Steve fucked his thoughts out of his head, took the fear with it, pounding that spot over and over, chest heaving, hips crashing against Bucky’s ass.

Bucky couldn’t stop staring up at Steve’s pecs, hovering just above his face. The muscles were so tight, so high, they looked more like tits than Steve would probably like but oh, Bucky couldn’t do anything but admire them. There nipples were stiff and so pink; little pebbles on the bouncing, flexing muscle. So goddamn _pretty_. 

When he tilted his head up and fixed his lips around one of the nipples, Bucky didn't even realise what he was doing. Steve didn’t push him away, though he could with the hand on his throat. That grip just tightened as Steve moaned, cursing again. He didn't stop thrusting, though the movement meant Bucky lost hold and had to come back, barely scraping his teeth over the saliva-slick flesh. He sucked hard at as much skin as he could get in his mouth, teeth well around the small, hard nipple, and licked at it, lashing it with his tongue.

“Fuck,” Steve cursed again, twitching.

Tightening his thighs, Bucky held Steve close, and surged up again, sucking harshly, enjoying the feel of the pebbled flesh and warm skin in his mouth, under his tongue.

“Jesus, Bucky, ’m gonna -” Steve called, out of breath, sweat beading on his skin so each lick was salty. He didn’t stop, though, not as Steve fucked him harder, steady thrusts abruptly erratic. Bucky held on, leaned into Steve’s palm, and groaned. Then he was coming, filling Bucky with heat, all but scorching him inside.

Bucky didn’t want to stop sucking, licking - worshiping, really - Steve’s incredible tits, but he was slowing, then stilling, limbs trembling as he held himself off Bucky and held Bucky down. If Bucky hadn’t known better, he’d thought that was the best orgasm he’d gotten out of Steve yet.

Voice rough and harsh, Steve asked the question he asked every time he’d come inside Bucky, “Want me to help you finish?” Every time, Bucky had said no. It wasn’t that the sex wasn’t good, it was just… too much. He didn’t need an orgasm to feel good with the sex they had, but this time...

Bucky clenched down on Steve, already missing the feeling of Steve’s cock as it softened inside him, and Steve shivered.

“Yeah,” he agreed and watched Steve’s eyes light with surprise. “Put something inside me though,” he added hoarsely, staring up at Steve’s chest, heaving still, above him. Steve was flushed, the red travelling down his golden chest, staining those tits he wanted to taste, to maul some more. Bucky wondered if they would get swollen and dark if he worked at him hard enough.

“Anything?” Steve asked, voice thick and just a coarse. He must have noticed Bucky wasn’t staring at his face, though, because he didn’t wait for an answer. Pulling out, he gathered Bucky up and sat against the headboard, settling Bucky into his lap. Before Bucky could protest, his hand was back about his throat, guiding his head to one pink, pretty nipple. 

Groaning, Bucky latched his lips about it and then groaned louder as Steve’s hand slid up his thigh, between his legs. He arched, twisting until Steve’s fingers slid over all the slick and then pressed inside him. There was no hand left for his cock, but Bucky didn’t think he wanted it at this point, not when Steve’s three fingers focused on that spot, rubbing relentlessly, and he didn’t pull Bucky away from his chest.

When Bucky’s hands brushed Steve’s chest, he didn’t know why he hadn’t used them yet. Finally, he got his them on those tits, cupping them carefully, the fingers of his metal hand sliding over the nub he didn’t have in his mouth. Pinching carefully and pulling, just as he did with his teeth, he pushed back onto the fingers inside him. Steve inhaled sharply and Bucky tugged both nipples slowly from Steve’s torso, and then let go, only to wrap his lips around as much of the tight tit he could and suck, as hard as he could, as sloppily as he could.

“God, Bucky,” Steve breathed out, voice hitching on the words. 

Bucky grinned, flicking his eyes to Steve’s face, and then quickly closed them again at the intensity in Steve’s gaze. Like Bucky was the entire world and nothing mattered more than this moment, Steve’s fingers spiralling the pleasure inside him slowly higher and higher as he switched between one nipple and the other, messing Steve up, making his flesh redden and swell. 

Soon Bucky was panting against the slick skin as the pleasure built. His hole stung, stretched from constant fucking and the thick fingers inside him. Admittedly, he liked the burn, but he loved the soft skin under his lips and his teeth as he scraped them over and over the vulnerable flesh. His cock was so hard, trapped between them, smearing pre-come over Steve’s hard abs. Bucky was so close to coming, he just needed that little bit more…

Moaning, he sucked even harder, all but mauling Steve’s pec with his hands as he thrust his hips, rubbing his wet cock over Steve’s belly and fucking himself back against Steve’s fingers. It was messy and sloppy, the movements making him lose his grip on the nipples, so he used his hands to squeeze Steve’s chest until his swollen nipples peeked between his fingers, like little cupcakes with cherries on top. He licked them greedily, helpless as he rubbed himself on Steve. 

The pleasure was building, spiraling tighter, erasing anything except Steve’s fingers inside him, Steve’s ridged belly against his cock, the hot nipples against his tongue. Bucky came suddenly, harshly enough it was almost painful. His muscles locked down on Steve’s fingers as he painted Steve’s stomach with come and moaned against the flesh he had in his mouth. His brain went white and fuzzy, body tingling and spent. 

When he came back to himself, Bucky wasn’t expecting anything, but he was surprised to find himself still in Steve’s arms. There was no hand about his throat, or fingers inside him, though. A hand absently trailed up and down his back, the other along his legs which had been pulled up along Steve’s side. His lips were wrapped about a nipple still, sucking idly. Strangest of all, Bucky couldn’t remember being this calm, certainly not in a situation like this. Steve hadn’t… left. Hadn’t stopped touching him like every time they’d done this, like every john, and every sick fucker before them. He was just… here… waiting… and Bucky wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. 

Pulling his lips from Steve’s nipple, feeling wrong-footed and embarrassed, though he didn’t know why, Bucky felt both Steve’s hands pause, then start up again.

“Back with me?” Steve murmured. His voice had yet to recover from his orgasm, but that wasn’t what made Bucky swallow. It was the tenderness in it and the weird certainty that Steve would have let him keep doing that as long as Bucky wanted.

“Um, don’t think I left,” Bucky said a bit stupidly.

Steve snorted, leaning down and pressed a kiss to Bucky’s sweaty forehead. Steve smelled good still, the scent of his sweat alluring, as Bucky inhaled it greedily. Then Steve was brushing his hair away, and Bucky felt weirdly sated. Like he could sleep, right here, right now, so long as Steve didn’t stop touching him.

“That was incredible.”

“Was it?” Bucky wriggled, but Steve just adjusted his hold in the new position like it wasn’t an imposition to have Bucky there in his lap, holding him in place. “So what was every other time you fucked me?”

“Good,” Steve said simply, honestly, and Bucky had to admit it was silly he’d even imagined the guy would do anything but hold him. What else was there to do? Dump him in bed and leave without a word? It was _Steve_.

Bucky scowled, looking up at Steve. He just smiled back, content in a way Bucky had yet to see. So, all right, it _had_ been incredible if it could put that look on Steve’s face.

“Why? Because I came?”

Laughing, Steve shook his head. 

“That’s just part of it.”

Scowling harder, because when did Steve _not_ want to talk about the sex, Bucky demanded, “So you liked what I did to your nipples?”

Something uncomfortable passed Steve’s face, there and gone.

“It was okay. Didn’t hate it, don’t think I’ll need it to get off every time. I liked that _you_ liked it.”

“Then what, Steve?” Bucky snapped, sitting up and hating how Steve’s hands dropped away from his skin. “What was so incredible _this_ time?”

“Bucky…” Steve said in that tone of voice that meant - Bucky shook his head hard, he didn’t _remember_ what it meant; he’d not heard it before, and his brain needed to stop suggesting shit he didn’t know.

“Tell me,” Bucky snapped.

“You touched me,” Steve answered quietly. “You haven’t done that before.”

Bucky opened his mouth, but no words came out. He closed it, staring at Steve and actually thinking back to all their previous encounters.

“Well… you holding me down was kind of a factor,” he hedged. He wasn't lying. It was truth. When flat on his belly, or squashed up to make sure he had no leverage, it was hard to touch Steve, but that wasn’t all. Bucky hadn’t wanted to, not until now.

“I know,” Steve said quickly, reaching for Bucky again and sliding his hands over his hip and shoulder. “You didn’t do anything wrong, okay? I just… I liked it.”

“I just,” Bucky licked his lips. It wasn’t that he felt ashamed, that feeling long since beaten out of him, but there was something remarkably similar burning in his belly. “I guess I got used to it being that way?” he said tentatively. “Hookers don’t usually touch the johns.”

“Bucky, Bucky, Christ,” Steve said quickly, no longer content and happy and Bucky had done that, “you don’t have to explain it to me, okay? It’s okay. I’m not asking you for anything. I just… I liked it. That’s _all_. Next time I have you face down, I’m not gonna be upset you don’t touch me.”

Swallowing, Bucky stared at Steve, not knowing what to say. He _knew_ that, it was just… he felt guilty. He couldn’t even say why he felt so damn guilty, except… No, that wasn’t true, Bucky knew why. It was because of that look on Steve’s face, how content and happy he had been, and all Bucky had had to do was touch him and he hadn’t. He hadn’t because this wasn’t about Steve. Hell, it wasn’t about Bucky, it was about solving a problem, but maybe it should have been more. 

“It’s not that I have anything against touching you, Steve. I just… forget that’s an option?”

“I know you don’t,” Steve said, sounding exasperated now, but that was at least better than his mild panic. “You don’t have to -”

“I want to,” Bucky interrupted and Steve’s jaw flopped open. “Close that, you look like an unattractive fish.”

Flushing, Steve’s mouth snapped shut and a moment later he was manhandling Bucky, pulling him back against his chest, both legs curled about his waist and pressing a rather hard kiss to his hair.

“You can stay,” he murmured. “You don’t gotta go.”

The tension that had flared in his muscles slowly relaxed, and Bucky carefully pressed his hands to Steve’s chest. Closing his eyes, he let himself enjoy the feeling of being petted, of being held. There was nothing sexual about this and that was… better, somehow. Steve’s hands just traveled his skin, mapping his back, leg, and hip, caressing so softly shivers raced across his skin. When they slowed and fell away, Bucky opened an eye and had to bite back a laugh. Steve had fallen asleep, sitting upright, head against the backboard.

Reaching down, Bucky grabbed the blankets and hauled them up, over them both. Steve just snuffled, turning his head and pressing his cheek against the top of Bucky’s. Bucky wasn’t sure if he could fall asleep like this, with any person in bed with him, as hyper-aware of Steve’s presence as he was right now, but he liked this closeness, seeing Steve so unguarded and relaxed, and that he could burrow close enough that the scent of Steve’s skin was in his nose as he rested against Steve’s warm body. Maybe in time he could get used to it, but for now, this was enough.


	3. Chapter 3

Nightmares weren’t anything Bucky hadn’t experienced before. They came in so many forms, none worse or easier to deal with than the others. Bucky had a system to deal with them, a routine that worked more often than it didn’t. He would get out of bed, make himself some coffee, do 500 one-arm push ups with his good arm, 500 double crunches, then 500 side plants on both sides. If that didn’t numb his brain and let him sleep, he repeated, over and over, until it worked, or the sun came up and he could make him and Steve breakfast. 

The first time he’d gone through his routine in Avenger’s Tower, Bucky had expected Steve to come find him, stop him, or… well, something. The light had been on in his office, and he’d come out to see what was going on. However, he’d taken one look at Bucky and turned right back around. The first breakfast had been that morning, half a thank you, half Bucky wanting to do something nice for Steve who clearly hadn’t slept that night either.

This time, when the terror ripped him from his sleep, body shaking and sweat sour on his lips, he couldn’t employ his usual routine. Not with the familiar pain that burned in his nerves, from his shoulder to gut, making his heartbeat quick and thready. He groaned, rolling over onto his side and curling up, fighting the urge to throw up. Between the images from his dream, still spinning in front of his eyes, and the pain, his stomach was threatening to give up the fight. Worse, he could feel them on his skin, the men from the nightmare, touching him, not having to demand because he gave up everything to them.

And now, somehow, he had to go have sex. 

Another bout of pain seared through him and Bucky choked, but forced himself to his feet. As much as the pain was crippling, he had to go. He had to find Steve and pray the waves of agony were far enough apart that he would be able to communicate coherently. He stumbled, slamming his flesh shoulder into the doorframe. Something cracked, hopefully the door and not his bones, but he couldn’t tell which. 

Some luck was with Bucky; he could see light beneath Steve’s office door. He made the thin slash of brightness his goal as he stumbled forward like a drunk, having to use the wall to hold himself up. He didn't bother to knock, the pain that kept ebbing and returning too intense. Pushing the door open, he nearly tripped across the threshold.

“Bucky?” Steve asked, head coming up in surprise. His brows furrowed and he was on his feet even as Bucky crossed the room. “Bucky, what’s wrong?”

“Fucking schedule,” he ground out through a tight throat, “is off.”

Steve threw a look at the clock on the desk, but he was already moving, reaching for Bucky. Despite knowing it was _Steve_ , and Hydra was in the past, Bucky flinched. Instantly Steve froze, hands in the air, blue eyes wide as saucers.

“Bucky?” Steve said again, uncertain and afraid.

Another spasm of pain had Bucky choking on his breath. He just panted, leaning on the wall, waiting for the agony to let up enough for him to speak. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the spots dancing in front of his vision.

“Don’t hesitate,” he growled. Jesus fuck, if Steve didn't do what he’d promised to do because of his delicate sensibilities, Bucky would kill him. “I had… there was… I dreamt of them.” Bucky looked away from Steve, his vision still a bit blurry. “I’m not gonna want you, but… Steve. You have to fucking do this.”

“Jesus,” Steve cursed. “Okay, fuck, okay…”

When Steve squared his shoulders, the relief nearly knocked Bucky’s knees out from underneath him. A moment later, Steve grabbed him none-to-gently. At the same time, a wave of pain swept through Bucky, making it impossible to follow through on his desire to lash out. As it was, he was barely aware as Steve tore his underwear off, stripping him naked, and then dragged him to the chair. 

“Just hang on, Buck, hang on.”

The words barely registered. Steve had his hands behind his back, twisted together, gripping both wrists in one big palm. For once, it didn’t do anything for him, neither did Steve closing his eyes tightly, grabbing his cock and jerking roughly. It made him feel bad, honestly, but all he could do was bite back a scream, holding it in because if he didn’t, he knew there was no way Steve would be able to get it up. 

What happened after that was a little fuzzy. The next thing he knew, he was in Steve’s lap, hands pinned behind his back with his legs on either side of Steve’s. The pain was gone, and when he shifted, he knew why. Steve was inside him, though he wasn’t moving, just holding Bucky and rubbing a hand up and down his arm.

“Hey, there you are,” Steve murmured, smiling up at him weakly. 

Groaning, Bucky sagged forward, exhaustion washing over him now that the pain had past.

“You can let go,” Bucky muttered. “I’m too tired…”

“Shh,” Steve hummed, not letting go and pulling Bucky closer. He tucked Bucky’s head beneath his chin, shifted his grip, and began slowly rubbing his back. “We’re not gonna do anything for a bit, alright? Just relax. I got ya.”

“You’re gonna go soft,” Bucky complained.

Steve surprised him by agreeing.

“Yeah, so I’m gonna put on some porn and sit here with you. You’re safe and I’ve gotcha. No one, me included, is gonna touch you anyway you don’t want.”

Feeling out of sorts, exhausted, and needing to complain about _something_ , Bucky grumbled, “You’re still wearing clothes.”

“I can’t get out of them with one hand,” Steve huffed. “I’ve got skills, but that’s not one of them.”

Bucky huffed out an exhausted laugh against Steve’s chest.

“Can you put on porn with one hand? Surprised you even know what that is.”

“Because we didn’t have porn in the Thirties,” Steve muttered grumpily. Bucky’s other question he answered without comment, reaching past him to the computer. There was the click of a mouse, then some keys, and Steve pressed another kiss to Bucky’s temple. “Need me to put on headphones?”

“No.” 

Bucky sighed tiredly and snuggled into Steve’s torso as there was another click and the muted sound of two men grunting and groaning filled the air. Part of him wanted to see what kind of porn Steve liked, but the rest of him just wanted to close his eyes and enjoy the clean, soft smell of Steve’s skin. With his face tucked into Steve’s neck, he didn’t even have to hide it, just breathed normally and felt some of the tension train from his body. It wasn’t like he enjoyed the generic sounds of sex, either, though he was loathe to admit it. He hated that Hydra had such hold on him that years later they could affect him so strongly. He hated his own weakness, that he had let Hydra take even such a simple pleasure from him. 

Taking a deep breath, Bucky tried to focus on the slight burn and discomfort of the cock in him. It wasn’t as hard as he knew Steve could get, but Bucky didn’t blame him for that. It was just good he’d been able to get it up at all. Sitting on it like this felt both strange and good, though Bucky was sure it was his most recent experiences softening the blow his nightmares had delivered. 

Steve was good, he reminded himself, at this, at taking care of his needs. Patient, hot enough to make Bucky enjoy the sex even when it wasn’t really his choice to have it. He shifted, pressed his cheek to Steve’s, and hummed when Steve responded by running his hand along Bucky’s spine until it slid into Bucky’s hair, combing through the tangled, sweaty locks. His body was relaxed, almost limp in Steve’s lap, as the endorphins that had flooded his body left him floating. Steve was quiet, holding his wrists, touching him gently, but not intimately and part of Bucky was worried he’d fall asleep. He wouldn’t, he was only just getting used to falling asleep with Steve at all, and this position was uncomfortable and awkward, not to mention he couldn’t quite forget about the cock inside him. If he focused hard enough, he thought he could feel Steve’s heart beat. 

“Steve,” Bucky muttered, “leggo. Arms hurt.”

The muscles in Steve’s face twisted against Bucky’s cheek and he knew Steve was frowning, but a moment later he’d carefully let go of Bucky’s wrists. Sighing, he stretched both arms over his head, working the kinks from his muscles, and then set about fixing the only other irritation he had staying like this: Steve’s clothes. They were rough, not soft like Steve’s skin, and his khakis had bunched at his thighs, rubbing awkwardly against the inside of Bucky’s knees.

Huffing out a laugh, Steve let him, but was more concerned keeping Bucky seated than helping. It took some doing and snapping the waistband of Steve’s underwear, but Bucky had him naked as the men on the computer settled down and Steve reached over to put on another video. Bucky tried to ignore it, settling back against Steve’s chest and wrapping his arms about Steve’s shoulders.

“Better?” Steve teased, but Bucky was too tired to rise to the bait and just nodded. 

The longer he sat here, the more aware he was of the cock inside him, how warm it was, how hard, how it stretched him. It was both a comfort and wonder that Steve wasn’t at his usual thickness. Nothing more could show how different Steve was from the men in his nightmares, his memories, but he’d still done this for him, given Bucky what he needed, while finding them a middle ground. 

Still, Bucky wanted this to be over. He didn’t want to sleep, but he didn’t want to spend hours just sitting here, sex noises distracting him from his thoughts. What he wanted was for the uncertainty to end; to know, without any doubt, the pain wouldn’t come back. Part of him wanted to thank Steve, too; show him how much he appreciated all of this.

Turning his head, Bucky drew his lips along Steve’s throat and felt him shudder. Encouraged, he followed the path of Steve’s jaw, pausing to bite just beneath his ear. Steve cursed, hand tightening in his hair, but Bucky felt the way the cock inside him throbbed and grinned. Bucky liked that, the way Steve reacted to him. It gave him a sense of… power. Strength. Feeling Steve react to him was oddly satisfying, and he licked at the warm smooth skin back down Steve’s neck as he tightened his muscles around the cock inside him. 

“Bucky,” Steve groaned, teasing tone gone, replaced by something rough and needy.

Bucky didn’t feel like he wanted to mimic the full-out porn that was going on behind him, but yeah, touching Steve would be nice. Sucking a bruise onto Steve’s collar bone, Bucky slid his flesh hand between their bodies, fingers brushing the root of Steve’s cock just beneath where they were joined.

“Fuck,” Steve gasped, drawing in a long breath. “Yeah? You feeling better?”

Shaking his head, Bucky nipped at Steve’s Adam’s apple and moved on to suck another bruise over his pulse point.

“Don’t want it to be about me,” Bucky admitted, then added when Steve opened his mouth to protest, “It’s always about me, Steve. Just… just lemme… Just sit here, okay?”

After a pause where Bucky swung himself to the other side of Steve’s neck to give Steve some matching marks, Steve finally agreed breathlessly, “Whatever you want, Buck.”

“Hmm,” Bucky hummed, leaning back enough to look at Steve. His eyes were dilated and his lips parted as he watched _Bucky_ , not his sex selection on the screen. “Yeah, that’s not the idea.” 

Bucky rubbed curious fingertips over the juncture of their bodies, feeling the hardness of Steve’s cock and the softness of his rim, stretched so widely around Steve. Inside him, Steve throbbed again and Bucky sighed as he got harder, filling Bucky completely, no longer in danger of softening and falling out. 

“That’s it,” Bucky heard himself say. Thankfully Steve didn’t answer, because Bucky wasn’t even sure what he’d meant. Instead, he slid both his hands down Bucky’s back, gripped his hips, then slid them back up. Bucky leaned into it, sighing. 

Withdrawing from tracing the root of Steve’s cock, he pressed his hands to Steve’s flat, hard belly, enjoying the shift of muscles under his touch. Oddly enough, he liked the power in Steve’s body: the hard abs, powerful shoulders, unbelievable chest with the prettiest tits he’d ever seen on a man or woman. All of it and it was his to touch, to enjoy, because Bucky knew no one else was in Steve’s bed. He didn’t know why, some devotion to Bucky, or misguided morals, but he appreciated it all the same. This was his. For as long as they did this, Steve was his.

Steve’s nails scraped over his spine, then landed on his hips. They gripped tightly again and Bucky could tell he wanted more. A nice flush had finally appeared on his cheeks, his lips parted so his pink tongue could dart out to wet them. Bucky leaned down to give those pink lips a lick, following the path he had seen Steve’s tongue had taken. When Steve’s eyes fluttered closed, Bucky didn’t hesitate to lean in and kiss him. The quiet groan he was rewarded with sent a flutter of something wonderful through his stomach, settling at the base of his spine.

Splaying both his hands on Steve’s wonderful tits, Bucky cupped them, lifted and let his thumbs brush Steve’s nipples. Steve’s breathing hitched, hands tightening like vises, and then releasing. Not taking, sitting still, just like Bucky had told him. Letting Bucky have all the control he wanted, and Bucky moaned at the thought that Steve would sit here, let him do this, as long as _he_ wanted.

Breaking the kiss, Bucky slowly lifted himself up, thighs straining at the odd angle. Immediately Steve’s arms were about him, holding his waist, supporting his back. Letting him set the pace and speed, the depth of penetration, but taking the strain from his legs. Breathless, Bucky pressed his forehead to Steve’s. Those blue eyes hadn’t left him once, not since he’d started kissing his neck. Whatever was going on behind him sounded pretty intense, but it was Bucky that had Steve’s attention, _Bucky_ who had gotten him hard. The power of it, the appreciation; it all swirled inside his chest, filling him with something warm and clean and beautiful.

“Steve,” Bucky gasped. He hadn’t known he could feel like this, not during sex, not ever. Steve just held him tighter, looking at him with such awe it made Bucky want to squirm and laugh and give Steve everything he’d ever wanted.

“I’m here,” Steve promised, breathless with the pleasure Bucky was giving him. “You’re so fucking incredible. God, the things you do to me.”

“Steve,” Bucky pleaded, or begged - he didn’t know which. The sound of his name had Steve moaning, though, pressing his face into the crook of Bucky’s neck and shoulder. Bucky pulled him tighter, moving just a bit faster, and was shocked to realize how close Steve was. After two weeks together, they’d done nearly everything Bucky had ever heard of, but this? He’d hadn’t gotten to Steve like _this_.

No one had ever gotten to Bucky like this.

Leaning his head back, Bucky closed his eyes, focusing on the slide of their skin together. While Steve was close, Bucky was just starting to feel good, at least sexually. It was almost… distracting. There was so much already, so much sensation and emotion, and he didn’t want it to end. He wanted more, was greedy for it. It made him think that maybe, just maybe, this whole thing between them wasn’t as fucked up as he’d thought.

“Bucky,” Steve gasped, the name barely audible over his breath. A moment later, Bucky felt him pulse and fill him, shuddering in Bucky’s arms over and over.

“I’ve got you,” Bucky whispered, holding Steve tightly. 

Like a prayer, Steve whispered, “Bucky,” again. Smiling, ridiculously pleased with himself, Bucky stopped moving. He just ran his hands through Steve’s hair, down his back, over and over. In turn, Steve just clung to him, as if _he’d_ had the nightmares and was wrung completely dry.

Sex had never felt this way to Bucky, so intimate and warm. It had been one of the most pleasurable experiences of his life, even better than finishing with an orgasm. All he could think, as Steve breathed and Bucky touched him and the guys behind them screamed through their own orgasms, was he hoped they could find this again. That it wasn’t the last time.

All at once Steve sat up, caught Bucky’s head, and pulled him into a kiss. Startled, Bucky tightened his grip, but kissed back. There was something desperate in Steve’s kiss, a need Bucky wasn’t sure he could meet. Then, just as abruptly, Steve was back to being gentle, pressing sweet, chaste kisses over and over to Bucky’s lips until he laughed and shoved at Steve’s chest, pushing him away.

“Enough,” Bucky insisted, smiling because Steve was grinning up at him.

Growing serious, Steve asked, “You okay?”

Bucky huffed.

“Yeah.” Bucky had no idea how Steve could be so worried for him after what they’d just done. “Are _you_? That’s not the usual question after this.”

Smiling again, Steve nodded as his hands caressed Bucky’s hips.

“I’m great,” he said softly, “just figured if you’d wanted it, you’d have taken it, or asked for it.” 

“I’m _fine_ ,” Bucky insisted, since Steve didn’t seem to be quite convinced. “Dirty, but fine.”

“Want me to help you shower?” Bucky blinked, surprised by the offer, and Steve laughed. “Hey, it’s not like I’m any cleaner after that.”

Slowly, Bucky said, “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

Still smiling brilliantly, Steve tightened his grip on Bucky’s waist and stood. The change in position pulled his cock free and Bucky gasped, then shivered, still very sensitive. Steve just held him tighter and Bucky found himself curling about him, wrapping his legs about his waist, pressing his face into his neck. It was an absurdly vulnerable position to be in, but Bucky felt completely safe. It was a shock to realize, since he’d had a nightmare not an hour past. 

Realisation of just how attached he was getting to Steve sent a little shiver of unease down Bucky’s spine. He both liked it, but also understood the emotional attachment would mean he would lose the ability to just waltz away whenever he liked. It was hard enough being in Avenger’s Tower where everything was monitored and only JARVIS being a good guy kept him from bumping into the other residents. Yet, he’d known he could leave whenever he wanted. Now? Leaving would mean leaving Steve, and it had been such a long time since Bucky had felt anything other than fear. At least, he was grateful to know he was still human enough to form attachments. 

Still, maybe it was a stupid risk to take. Maybe it was just a thing of a moment, but Bucky didn’t want to get rid of these feelings anyway. He had survived worse than a broken heart, so he might as well enjoy it while it lasted. And, he let himself think, maybe it wouldn’t end. Not if the way Steve had looked at him meant anything. And there was the way he had kissed him, fierce and desperate, or the way he was always touching Bucky, now that he thought he was wanted. Dropping into the space next to him on the couch and practically draping himself across Bucky, or pulling his chair closer so he could hook their ankles together…

Okay, so maybe there _was_ more reason to think Steve really wanted him.

In the bathroom, Steve set him down on the seat built into the wall of the shower. The thing was all white tile and gleaming metal, built to fit at least three men their size, and had two shower heads, one on a long hose. Bucky liked it a ridiculous amount and hadn’t used the guest shower once since he’d found it. 

Steve turned the shower head away before turning on the spray to keep the cold water from hitting them as the taps warmed up. Bucky just watched him, the long, lean lines of his body, and wondered - not for the first time - why this was so easy for Steve. The words almost left his mouth, but Steve beat him to talking and hit him with information that swamped Bucky’s still-tired brain.

“Tony thinks he might have a way to de-program you.”

For a moment everything froze, and then sound came back with a rush.

“What?” Bucky blurted out, mind still empty of any other thought.

Then memories of how his programming came to resurface and really, deprogramming would just be done the other way.

“Tony thinks he might have a way to de-program you,” Steve repeated evenly, but he wasn’t looking at Bucky. “He made something he calls a BARF - charming, right? - and thinks it can do the trick.”

“How does he even know what’s happening with me? How much does he know?” 

Bucky briefly considered getting angry, but he was just too tired and bitter to be angry. The hot curl of pain in his chest - because Steve had to have talked behind his back - was better left behind. Not like he could even change it any more.

Steve was looking at him at least now, surprise writ across his expressive features.

“Bucky, I thought - I thought we’d talked about this? That… That if you came here,” he sank to his knees gracefully, hands tentative on his knees, “I’d find someone to help you.” Worried eyes swept his face, hands curling nervously though there was no fabric to grip. “Was… Did I misunderstand? Don’t you want to be free?”

Bucky swallowed down the bitterness in his throat. Yeah, the nice digs had made him feel like a person again, allowed him to regain some sense of self-respect. It was a cold shock to realise that, apparently, everybody knew his triggers. Everybody he might meet in this tower was now informed that he was a whore. That was great.

“You haven't answered my question,” Bucky pointed out, swallowing the shame together with the anger. He was stupid to have thought he could be a person here.

“I… I told him,” Steve said slowly. “He couldn’t help if I didn’t…”

“How much?” Bucky demanded. “And why didn’t you discuss it with me first?”

“I thought I had,” Steve fumbled, swallowing hard and Bucky didn’t give a damn how bad he felt right then. “I told him Hydra had put something in your brain that made you do things you didn’t want. That I was helping you, but you wanted it to stop. I told him you called it programming and if you resisted you suffered agonizing pain as a punishment. He said -”

Bucky exhaled and Steve froze as he rubbed his eyes. Of course, Steve had. Of course, he had found a way to tell things without spilling the dirty details. Abruptly, Bucky started laughing, the relief and exhaustion catching up to him all at once.

“Bucky?” Steve asked slowly.

Bucky laughed so hard he could feel tears leaking from his eyes. It was all so ridiculous and he just needed some goddamn rest.

“Sorry,” he gasped, waving his hand around. “Sorry. I just…” he giggled. “It’s okay. Fine.” He took a deep breath. “What does your Tony think he can do?”

“Well, um,” Steve didn’t look any less nervous, “he created the BARF… thing. He said it could, possibly, overwrite the programming, but he’ll need brain scans and to know the specific triggers, but,” Steve gestured vaguely in the air, “I know you don’t want to meet him. I just… Bucky, I thought you wanted this to stop.”

“I do want it to stop! Who the fuck wouldnt?!” He exhaled softly, trying to control his volume. “You think it’s fun thinking strangers know I’m a fucking whore and will let anybody fuck me as long as it's within scheduled time?”

“No one - No one thinks that, Bucky, Jesus.” Steve had gone a strange shade of pink and green. “You think I think that? I don’t think that. You’re a survivor, that’s what I think. If you didn't care who fucked you, you'd never have agreed to this,” Steve motioned to the apartment around them, “not when it means you have less freedom.” The hands on Bucky's knee rubbed at him, agitated and nervous. “I know you don't know Tony, and you don't have to trust him, but maybe… you can trust me? I've,” Steve rolled his shoulders. “I've only told three - four people,” Bucky cringed, “and I made them swear to confidentiality. Well, I made Richards sign an agreement so he couldn't tell anyone but his wife - she's kind of a genius and she can turn invisible, but that's not really topical, but is really fucking cool.”

Four people. There was no way four people would ever keep a secret, contract or no. Somebody would tell something to somebody and bam, things would get out. It was just a matter of time. The only reason two people could keep a secret was when one of them was dead. Steve had had good intentions, wanted to help, and Bucky knew it. He knew Steve hadn’t done it to hurt him. Maybe Steve just didn’t understand how secrets worked, or was too naive to consider the futility of calling it a secret with so many people involved. Maybe, if this thing even worked, it would be worth it? And it’s not like Bucky even knew those people. Maybe he wouldn’t ever meet them. 

Steve was still staring at him, blue eyes having brightened for a moment, shining with excitement over some woman becoming invisible. He was so earnest, so goddamn _true_. Bucky tried to be angry, tried to find that spark inside him that had helped him survive for so long, but it wasn’t there. He couldn’t hate Steve, couldn't be angry at him. Hell, it looked like he couldn’t even blame Steve for anything because, unlike all the people he knew at Hydra, Steve had never done anything with the express purpose of hurting him. No, he all but turned himself inside-out to make Bucky comfortable, make him feel as safe as possible, which was a feat in itself because Bucky didn't even know he could feel safe anymore. 

Reaching out, he touched his fingertips to Steve’s arm, feeling the warmth of his skin. Steve looked down at the point of contact and then back at Bucky, eyes wide and hopeful. Bucky tried not to smile, but it was hard watching Steve's face light up like that. 

“Did you just geek out on me, Rogers?” There was a soft feeling rising in Bucky’s chest. He was helpless when faced with Steve wanting anything.

Steve smiled sheepishly.

“A little. I'm just… I can't help if I don't talk to people, Buck. I didn't… Well, I thought you'd be okay with that and I'm sorry, I'll let you know if I talk to anyone else, but… Bucky, _no one_ thinks that. Tony and Richards just thought you were an interesting puzzle,” only the disgust on Steve's face kept Bucky from launching into another tirade, “and Bruce just…,” Steve licked his lips and murmured, “he feels bad for you, and I know you don't want pity,” Steve added in a rush, “but it's… I'm only telling you because -"

“Because he doesn't think I'm a whore,” Bucky finished, tired and done with this whole thing.

“Bucky,” Steve said gently, “that's just what Hydra wants you to think because they're terrible people. Besides you, only terrible people will think that.”

“Besides me?” Bucky made himself repeat, but it was choked, barely a whisper, and he couldn't look Steve in the eye as he asked the question.

“Never met a guy harder on himself than you,” Steve's hand squeezed his knee, “You're better than you think you are.”

“I killed people,” Bucky blurted, an insane urge to prove Steve wrong seizing his chest.

“I know,” Steve answered, voice just as calm, just as tender, “I read your file.”

“Kids,” Bucky flung at him, “women, _Howard_.”

Steve's face twisted and, for a terrifying moment, Bucky thought he had succeeded.

“I know,” Steve whispered. “I'm so sorry, Buck. You two were always close.” Bucky swallowed hard, breathing erratic. Alarmed, Steve straightened. “Bucky?”

“I liked it,” Bucky hissed through clenched teeth, but Steve's face just went from worried to sad.

“You always did,” he murmured, “so do I.” Bucky froze, eyes wide and frantic, staring at the best man he'd ever known say something unbelievable. “You were the one that taught me to live with it. The satisfaction at being good at what we do, even when it means taking a life. That doesn't make us monsters, Buck. We’re good at what we do. What makes us monsters is when we make no effort to spare lives.” 

Bucky swallowed, staring at Steve and remembering those words as they'd come from his own mouth, passed down from his commander when he'd caught Steve crying into his cot. And then Steve was speaking again and the memory was gone. 

“And before you say it, Hydra was the monster, not you. You didn't give the orders.”

“Steve,” Bucky whispered, but his throat choked off the words. Whatever was on his face, however, had Steve up off the tile, scooping Bucky into his arms, then sitting again, cradling Bucky like he was precious. Closing his eyes, Bucky fought off the tears, clung to Steve, and tried not to think. It was too much, tonight. The dream, knowing strangers had his secret, Steve's absolution… It was all too much.

Except, apparently, it wasn’t enough for Steve.

“Will you see Tony?”

Bucky huffed out a small sigh. Of course Steve wouldn’t give in so easily.

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed; not like he would actually pass up on an opportunity to fix himself.

Instead of answering, Steve pressed a kiss to the top of Bucky’s head.

“Lemme get you cleaned up and in bed, okay?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said again. He liked it when Steve took care of him, especially when he was feeling like this. Not that he’d admit that, but his easy acquiescence probably spoke volumes in and of itself. He liked being here, he liked being here with Steve, and if he could be cured, if they could be equals? Yeah… Bucky wanted that. He thought then he could, maybe, become a person again. And if he did, maybe he could learn how to be happy.


	4. Chapter 4

Toy’s lab was similar to many Bucky had been in before. Hydra had often forgotten he was a human being. Hell, they forgot he was a biological life form at times, so he was no stranger to workshops. This one was more open, neater while still being a mess of tools and parts. The machines wandering about on their own were distracting, made him nervous, but at least the thing Tony had put on his head was lighter and more elegant than any device used on him before. That just made him uncomfortable, too. In a way he would have preferred agonising pain to this tense nothingness.

“What’s the countdown?” Tony asked. For the last ten minutes he’d been focused on the readings floating in the air, ignoring Steve pacing by the windows, ignoring Bucky in his chair. 

Steve glanced at his watch. 

“Two hours, give or take a half hour.”

Bucky grimaced; Steve had noticed the time between their sessions was shortening, not that he’d commented. He hadn’t complained, either, but Bucky was sure he couldn’t keep up at their pace forever. No man could, not as often as Bucky needed it. He didn’t even know why it was happening, or when it would stop. Likely it was a punishment for _enjoying_ the sex he was having with Steve, but surely they wouldn’t have left him with as short a window as every two hours? The Asset would have been useless to them then. Though, Bucky doubted this situation would have ever happened at Hydra, where pain and humiliation were the most common themes. 

There had always been a reason to either punish him, or reward somebody else by using him. If he had ever gotten out and tried to make a life for himself, this was the perfect way to destroy any chance he had of a normal relationship. Another nasty little gift Hydra had left in his brain, and not likely the last. 

“It would be best if we could get scans when it starts -”

“No,” Steve snapped, voice low and hard. It sparked that same warm feeling in Bucky’s chest, hearing that firmness in Steve’s voice. It felt good to know at least one person was in his corner.

“Okay, okay,” Tony conceded, voice higher, trying to soothe Steve, Bucky guessed. “I was just saying…”

Whatever else Bucky was saying was lost as Tony’s voice faded until he was muttering under his breath. Bucky resisted the urge to pull the BARF system off his head, focusing on Steve instead. The caged tiger vibe Steve was giving off was really doing it for him. So was the way his jeans clung to his ass, shoulders accentuated by his navy zip-up, while underneath his white shirt clung to his tiny hips. 

Bucky licked his lips. It had been three days and six sessions since his nightmare, but Bucky thought that maybe tonight he would try it again. Spreading Steve out on the bed, straddling him, riding him slow and even while Steve gripped his hips, wanting him to move faster -

“I can see everything you’re picturing, Barnes,” Tony interrupted. “As hot as it is, I’m pretty sure our resident Boy Scout won’t appreciate I now know what he looks like naked.”

Bucky’s mind blanked.

“You can see what I’m thinking about?” he asked, his voice as blank as his face.

“Not exactly,” Tony said slowly, “just what you’re… picturing. This thing runs off memories, real or imagined, and I’m scanning your brain…” Tony finally looked over at him. “Was that not obvious? Should I have mentioned that?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, just as blankly, not letting himself think of anything. Just the here and now, the cadence of his breaths and nothing else. His mind as empty as the sky.

Tony grimaced. 

“Great, now I have to apologize.” Rolling his shoulders, he said stiffly, “I’m sorry, I should have told you.”

“Progress, Tony,” Steve said, voice rough, but approving as he moved to Bucky in the middle of the equipment Bucky was sitting within. Crouching, he took Bucky’s hand and squeezed. “Deep breaths, okay? It’s almost over. Just another ten minutes.”

Bucky didn't look at Steve, preferring the nonexistent middle distance and the artificially even breathing drilled into him. He could force his heart rate to match the even breaths. He could force his body to appear relaxed, despite whatever he felt. There was no need for him to take ‘deep breaths’.

“God, you’re such an asshole,” Steve huffed, and Bucky could hear the smile in his voice, though he still didn’t look. “Can’t let me comfort you even a little.”

Bucky opened his mouth, but closed it without saying anything. How could he explain to Steve that he didn’t know what comfort even was, much less how to accept it?

“At least you let me when we’re alone,” Steve said, still holding his hands. “Not that you were ever good at it. You remember, when that Coretta girl broke your heart when we were… nineteen?” 

Bucky’s stomach swooped because he _didn’t_ remember and he would have to tell Steve that. He shook his head, but Steve didn’t seem phased in the least. Unexpected, but… good, Bucky thought.

“You had been goin’ on about her for months, taking her dancing, ice cream parlors, saving up every penny you made at your dad’s shop. Made my teeth hurt watching you two, but I’d never seen your happier. Then she told you she was engaged to another fella and I’d never seen you more miserable. I mean, it’s a good look on you, Buck, I’ll be honest.” Bucky’s blank thoughts skipped. “Your eyes get all shiny with tears and your lips swell from chewing on them. You would let your hair grow out, and not shave so regularly.” Unwillingly, Bucky focused on Steve and watched his smile morph into a smirk. “What? I think you’re hot.”

“But that was…” Bucky said before stopping himself, shaking off the thoughts and forcing his mind blank.

“Before the war, yeah,” Steve finished. “So I’ve always thought you were hot. That’s not my point. My point,” Steve leaned forward, lips brushing Bucky’s ear and made him shiver, “is you wouldn’t let me comfort you then, either.”

Bucky hardly remembered himself from before the war. There were barely any memories from the war itself. None of it meant as much to him as Steve probably wanted it to mean, but there was some strange comfort in the fact that Steve at least was used to not being able to comfort Bucky. He was used to life with a certain degree of pain, but surprisingly he wasn’t keen on accepting the same for Steve.

“Why try then?” he asked despite himself. “If it never worked before?”

Not having moved from Bucky’s ear, their cheeks pressed together, Steve murmured, “Because I hate it when you’re hurting. No matter who you are, or who I am, I’m gonna hate it, Buck. You don’t have to like it, or even accept it, but as long as you’re stuck with me? I’m gonna want to see you smile, no matter how hot you look sad.”

“You are actually making me not want to smile at all,” Bucky said. He liked being called hot by Steve. He should probably check Steve’s reaction to his Winter Soldier persona if that’s what he thought about Bucky’s misery.

“Oh yeah?” Steve was grinning, sitting back on his heels. “Is this the part where I tell you how much I like your smile? Especially when you do that thing with your teeth, biting and then smiling so it slides out from beneath them. You get these dimples and I just wanna -”

“Okay, I’ve heard enough,” Tony interrupted. “Giving me diabetes over here.”

Steve snorted and leaned back to Bucky’s ear, whispering so Bucky was sure he was the only one that heard, “Makes me wanna do wicked things to that mouth of yours.”

It was a struggle not to think about those words, how they changed things. Bucky focused on his breathing, though, each breath in and out, slow and steady. He would only have to do it for so much longer, just until Tony was done with the scan. In and out, Steve’s hand on his. In and out, Steve’s breath on his neck. In and out…

“Done,” Tony announced. 

Before Bucky could reach for the device, Steve’s hands were lifting it off his head. He shuddered out a breath, letting himself relax the iron control he had had over his mind and body. He watched Steve tuck his hair behind his ear, letting the surprise spread over him. Objectively, he knew Steve cared for him. Nobody would go through what this guy went through for someone they didn't care about. It had been so difficult for Steve to fuck him at first, losing his erection constantly. Bucky couldn’t blame him; he wasn’t into hurting people. It also explained why Steve wasn’t interested in having sex with him outside of the schedule. This was just something that Steve did for Bucky, not because he wanted it.   
So this brazen declaration of… Want? Love? Interest? Bucky had no idea, but it confused the hell out of him. He was shaken, baffled, strangely jittery at hearing Steve say he _did_ want him. That the way Steve cared about him was more than just the way a good man would care for an old friend, or a stranger in pain. Steve found him attractive. Steve liked what he saw when he looked at him, and this was a revelation. Anybody could come with enough stimulation. An orgasm didn’t mean love, but this? Hearing Steve say he wanted him, _desired_ him, was, quite frankly, blowing Bucky’s mind.

“You okay?” Steve murmured, brow creased with worry.

Bucky licked his lips and watched Steve’s gaze flick to them before returning to his eyes. Experimentally, he licked them again and watched Steve react exactly the same way, only he licked his lips before looking back. Well… damn.

“Yeah,” he managed eventually, still shaken, but in a good way.

Smiling at him at last, Steve turned to Tony and Bucky realized he was still holding his hand. 

“Can we go?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Tony waved a hand dismissively, his dark eyes flying over the data on the displays before him. “Bye, thanks, talk to you soon and whatever other social norm I’m forgetting to say.”

Steve snorted and stood, pulling Bucky with.

“We’ve got an hour…” Bucky pointed out and, now that he was looking, watched Steve’s eyes dilate.

“Give or take.”

“Could start early?”

Though he let out a long breath, Steve’s answering smile was slow an easy.

“I think that’s a great idea.”

\----

Though he wasn’t called out on missions daily, Bucky had to admit Steve was right about being close the few times he was. Like now. Bucky was an hour off his timer and Steve was on a plane flying back to him. If there had been driving time on top of that, Steve wouldn’t have made it.

“Sir?” Bucky started as JARVIS interrupted the show he was watching. “Mr. Stark would like to have a word with you, but I did not grant him your number. Would that be alright, or should I patch him in through the P.A.?”

Bucky thought about his burner phone. He appreciated the fact that JARVIS asked, that he wasn’t conceding to whatever Stark wanted. It had been a genuine concern for him when he’d moved in, but Steve had assured him otherwise, and Bucky had come to find JARVIS was a great guy.

“Give him the number,” he said, deciding he could just destroy the phone if necessary.

A moment later, Bucky’s phone rang and he fished it from his pocket. Tony Stark was displayed on the caller ID, though Bucky hadn’t programmed it in. Yeah, he’d be destroying the phone later.

“Tony,” Bucky said coldly, once he had flipped it open and pressed it to his ear.

“Ah, Murder-Strut, great to hear your voice,” Tony chirped. “So, I have good news. Think I can get that fucked-up wiring out of your head, but you’re gonna have to go through the memories where it was implanted in the first place. Think you’re up for it?”

Bucky blinked, parsing through the avalanche of quick-paced words. Tony was asking him to go through some kind of torture, after all, everything he had learned at Hydra was steeped in pain. He had a moment of doubt. He didn’t manage to go through the pain he felt when he refused to follow the triggers. Would he be able to go through something similar?

“I’m not hearing a no,” Tony went on when the silence had apparently grown too unbearable for him. “I’m not hearing anything, really. Did you die? JARVIS? Is Barnes dead?”

“No, sir,” JARVIS answered in both Bucky’s room and Tony’s because he heard it in stereo.

“Good, okay, well, uh…” Surprisingly Tony went silent, if only for a moment. “Right, so after doing all this amazing, ground breaking research that you wouldn’t understand, I have to do that thing I forgot last time where I tell you stuff. I know about what the programming is making you do. I really don’t want to talk about it, but I know and I’m gonna need to be there when you go through it, in case anything goes wrong, but we can do this now if you want. Should only be a half hour, before your boyfriend even gets back.”

“Are you not with him?” Bucky asked, focusing on the one thing that wasn’t Tony Stark knowing his secret.

“Flew back on my own. Faster than the quinjet. So…? You up for this, Robocop? It’s not going to be clean or easy, but you’ll be free of Hydra and that sounds like a win for me.”

“I…” 

Bucky swallowed, trying to weigh the pros and cons. Stark watching him being tortured, maybe raped, knowing more than Bucky wanted anyone to know about what had been done to him. No longer having this need, being equal with Steve, finding out if they could have something when it was all over. Going through his torture again, reliving every moment. Having Steve when it was over, knowing they could walk away and they weren’t. 

“Yes.”

“Great!” Tony chirped. “Come on up and let’s get this over with.”

The words clattered in his head, almost obscuring the heavy pounding of his heart. It was surprising how he still cared when he had gotten used to being an independent creature. The thought of having Tony watch him go through his deconstruction again was making Bucky sick. Being so exposed, again nothing more than an object was bringing back the bad memories en force, even the ones his brain usually shied from. Still, he had agreed, and backing out wasn’t an option, not when it was removing his triggers on the line.


	5. Chapter 5

Everything hurt. The burn in his eyes, the raw ache of his throat, even pain from muscles that had clenched beyond their endurance; _everything_ hurt. Between the sour taste of vomit in his mouth and the sticky residue of cold sweat that slicked his body, Bucky felt the most disgusting he had been in a long time. Yet, there was an almost giddy feeling in the back of his mind. He hadn’t been aware of the pressure the triggers were putting on him, not until they were gone. 

And they were _gone_.

Bucky laughed, broken and raspy, as he rolled onto his side, then onto hands as knees. His flesh arm almost gave out under him, from shock, or maybe just exhaustion. The metal arm was all that kept him upright, the raspy chuckles kept coming as his mind tried to right itself. Pain stung his palm and he looked to see it had been scraped to hell, but he couldn’t remember how that had happened. Honestly, Bucky couldn't care less anyway. It was such an insignificant price to have paid. 

As wobbly as a newborn foal, he made his way to his feet using the mangled remnants of the chair Tony had had him in as a crutch. Iron Man himself stood at the holographic displays, his back deliberately turned from Bucky. It was a stark contrast to the man who had greeted him, all smiles and witty banter.

Stark, ha.

“Well,” Tony said, his voice high and words rapid, “that’s that, then. If you have any side effects like headaches, or hallucinations, let me know. Or tell Steve; have him let me know. Shouldn’t, but can’t be too careful. I’m rarely careful, but you’re Cap’s squeeze and, you know, he’d make that disappointed face, and then probably kill me if anything happened to you.”

As Bucky moved, Stark hunched further over his workstation, his shoulders creeping up, making sure he wouldn’t have the faintest chance to catch Bucky’s eye. He couldn't blame the guy and was grateful for it, really. Not like he wanted to look at Tony right now, either. If ever. The guy knew more dirty details about him than even Steve. Once he was sane enough to fully consider that fact, Bucky would be pathetically grateful for the courtesy.

“Gonna go scrub my servers of this data now,” Tony went on, not giving Bucky time to get a word in if he had wanted to. “Every last one and zero. Yep. Gonna go,” he turned, keeping his back to Bucky the entire time, “do that. Now. JARVIS? Clear the elevator for Barnes, yeah?”

Bucky wasn’t listening to Tony talking to JARVIS. He was too busy trying to make heads or tails of the stuff in his head. He knew the triggers were gone because the pain was _gone_. Unbelievably, the pressure that had been so constant had stopped. Everything felt different, his very thoughts felt lighter, freer somehow. The merciless countdown in his head still existed, but for the first time in his memory he knew it was just a habit, something he had done for survival. 

As Tony slunk off, Bucky turned for the elevator. It opened for him, then closed, taking him back to Steve’s apartment. A shower was in order. Maybe an early dinner. Or no, the queasy stomach still rolling a little. He didn't mind that, though. It would settle soon since it was psychosomatic anyway, but he _could_ have an early dinner if he wanted. Not even in the apartment, he could leave, not wait for Steve to get home. Not that he _wanted_ to go out without Steve, but he _could_.

Shedding his clothing in the bathroom, Bucky couldn’t stop grinning. He felt giddy, but it was fading as he was unsure what to do next. His whole life had been about keeping the schedule. Planning for the triggers had been so deeply ingrained, and now he could do anything… but he had no idea what to do. There were too many options, too many choices. Just thinking about dinner was a monumental task: wait for Steve, go out without him, cook, pick up a pizza, or Indian, or maybe find a sushi place? 

Bucky took a breath, stepping into the water and letting it pour over his head and shoulders, taking the sweat with it. No, he didn’t want to go out. He didn’t want to share today with strangers. The only person he wanted to spend time with was Steve, and he would be home soon enough. Maybe he could do something for him, make him dinner. Steve usually cooked, but that didn’t mean Bucky couldn’t. While he wasn’t sure Steve would like whatever he made, Bucky thought maybe he’d like a chance to just relax after a mission and it felt… good to do something for Steve.

After drying off and climbing into new clothes, Bucky headed for the kitchen to make them dinner, but never made it out of the hallway. He must have taken longer than he thought, because Steve had come home and now stood in the living room looking lost. He hadn't even changed out of his suit, dust and dirt and something Bucky thought was blood staining the fabric. When Bucky walked in the room, he glanced up, then laid his hand on the sofa and started picking at the seam.

“Steve?” Bucky asked hesitantly, not sure what to do with the expression Steve was wearing. He was looking Bucky over, eyes lingering on his neck, scanning down before returning to search for something in Bucky’s face.

“I'm late,” Steve said, eyes flicking down, and it took a moment for Bucky to realize he meant the schedule. The schedule he didn’t need any more. “You look… good.” 

It definitely was not a compliment. Steve sounded like a stranger, his voice low and subdued. He wasn’t looking at Bucky at all now, focused on the sofa thread he was twisting between his fingers. Bucky startled as he understood what Steve meant, what he had been looking for on Bucky’s face and neck, and what he must have thought seeing Bucky come out of the shower.

“You…” Bucky swallowed. He _was_ going to answer immediately, but the realisation that he had never thought about finding someone else to fulfill his trigger struck him at the same time. Even when the deadline was almost on top of him, he would have waited for Steve. If Tony hadn’t called, he would have stayed and waited. Even if it hurt.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Steve said, the words sounding all but ripped from his throat.

“I didn’t find anybody else,” Bucky said carefully, the expression on Steve’s face making his own chest hurt.

“You…” Steve’s eyes brightened and he licked his lips, “but… you’re not in pain…” Understanding washed over Steve at once and the not-angry expression returned, his hand tightening on the back of the couch so it creaked in protest. “Guess Tony finished with his machine?” He rubbed a hand over his eyes, mumbling so Bucky wasn’t sure he was supposed to hear, “Didn't need me for that either.”

Bucky’s mouth opened and closed, not quite sure what to make of that statement, or Steve, really. His brow was furrowed, not angry, but anger was the closest to the one he wore.

“So, I guess you'll be leaving then.”

Freezing again mid step, Bucky managed to say, “What?” as his thoughts scattered. 

“Come on, Buck,” Steve said thickly, “it's no secret you don't like the Tower. You got no reason to stay now you don't need me nearby. I just… can I ask you don't just vanish? I… I'd like to see you still, from time to time…”

Bucky glared, incredulous, but took refuge in a familiar emotion: anger. Who the hell Steve was to make choices for him?

“You ask me over and over what I want,” Bucky snapped, feet closing the distance between them so he could poke Steve hard in the chest with his metal finger. That finally got Steve’s attention, gaze snapping to him in confusion. “But now you make the decisions for me? No one makes decisions for me, not any more.”

“Of course it's your choice,” Steve’s expression was still made of that not-anger that Bucky didn't understand but already knew he hated with every fiber of his being. He could almost feel the walls that Steve was retreating behind, the distance between them growing with every heartbeat. “I'm not kicking you out!”

“Fucking feels like it,” Bucky growled, wrong-footed. This day had started so shitty but turned so good. He couldn’t believe that things were going to shit so freaking fast again. 

“I'm not,” Steve repeated, “I'd love for you to stay, but... You don't need me anymore, you don't need,” Steve gestured between them and his expression crumpled, “us.”

Bucky stared at the ridiculous excuse for a human being in front of him.

“Jesus, Steve. I get this shit out of my head and all you can do is feel sorry for yourself?”

Reeling as if Bucky had struck him, Steve backed away, but he only retreated physically.

“Excuse me for having emotions that don't revolve around your life. Yes, alright, I'm happy for you, but I don't exactly love the thought of _losing_ you. I, in fact, fucking hate it. I know that makes me fucking terrible, for liking what you had to do just to get by, but I did and it's over and I'm _not happy_ about it. You never needed me before, never, and…” The fight went out of Steve all at once, the large body deflating suddenly. He extended his arm, opening it toward Bucky in surrender. “You don't need me now. I hate that I liked it, but I did. I… liked mattering to you again. I am happy for you, I only ever wanted you to be happy, just... if you're gonna go, could you just get it over with and tell me? ‘Cause I'm pretty sure I can't feel worse.”

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Bucky’s voice was trembling, emotions churning, stumbling over each other, creating a mess in his head and in his chest. “What made you think I wanted you to hate it?” He shrugged as Steve looked up at him carefully, bitterness creeping into his voice. “One of us was miserable,” Steve looked away, “I never wanted you to suffer with me. If you got something good out of our arrangement, I haven't once begrudged you for it.” Bucky had never wanted to hurt Steve. Besides those first times he had lashed out, he had been content with what they had. “You think I would feel that way towards anyone else?”

“As… as glad I am you don’t hate me,” Steve said slowly, rubbing his face harshly, “that’s… really not my point. My point is here,” he motioned at his feet, “and your point is over in the quinjet.”

Bucky frowned.

“I was trying to say something nice,” he complained, pushing his damp hair away from his forehead. 

“For you, it was a rave review,” Steve said dryly, looking up at Bucky and forcing a smile. It was a weak thing that didn’t meet Steve’s eyes. Bucky hated it. 

“I..:” Bucky swallowed, trying to turn his swirling emotions into words. “You deserve it?” he said a bit hesitantly. It’s not like he’d had a reason to compliment anybody in over seventy years. He didn’t know how to, anymore.

“I deserve a rave review?” Steve repeated, genuine amusement lacing his tone that let Bucky’s shoulders come down an inch. “For fucking you?”

“You did a good job,” Bucky said helplessly. “You were…” he struggled for the right words, “patient with me.” Warmth spread on his cheeks. “It’s not something I’ve had a lot.”

“Bucky,” Steve said thickly, his smile vanishing again, “I’m glad you can find some kind of peace now, I am, really. I’m sorry I can’t be happier about that, I just…” he shrugged helplessly and Bucky realized it was the longest Steve had gone without touching him in months, “I don’t want you to go. That doesn’t mean,” he added quicker than Bucky could call him an idiot again, “that you should feel obligated to stay. You don’t owe me anything.”

“I owe you a fucking lot,” Bucky argued, slashing a hand through the air. “You made me feel like a human being again. Like I was a _person_ again.” Eyes wide and wild, Steve opened his mouth, but Bucky bowled over him. “You made me feel again, not just that resigned numbness I felt for years after the helicarriers fell. You gave me a home. You made this whole thing with Stark possible. There’s no goddamn limit to what I owe you, Steve.” 

Bucky was angry suddenly, so very, very angry. How dare Steve say his actions didn’t matter? How dare he undermine his own value? Steve had done things for Bucky nobody else had. He had suffered Bucky’s bad temper and barbed tongue. He had all but ordered his whole life around Bucky’s schedule. The hell Bucky was going to let Steve say it didn’t _matter_.

A few more times Steve’s mouth flopped open and closed like a fish until he finally managed, “You don’t gotta go. I’d love you to stay, Buck.”

“I never fucking planned on leaving,” Bucky snapped, his rage not having abated in the slightest. “If you’d stop making decisions for me without even asking what I want, you’d know that!”

Steve held up both hands, palms forward, surrendering to Bucky, or maybe just his anger.

“Okay, Bucky, okay,” he said, voice soothing and low and Bucky hated that he knew Steve was trying to manage him even as it was working, “What do you want to do now?”

“I want to fucking have dinner,” he growled, “with your dumbass self.” 

Sharply, he gestured between them and Steve caught his hand. It was the first time Steve had touched him since the triggers were gone, and it made something hot curl in Bucky’s throat.

“Okay, let’s have dinner.” Steve squeezed gently, sliding his hand up to Bucky’s wrist. “Can I get changed first? Shower?”

Bucky shrugged. 

“I don’t mind some blood and gore, but not sure about the civvies.”

“You are so charming,” Steve murmured dryly, his fingers sliding against the thin skin of Bucky’s wrist. It was distracting, but Steve was touching him again so he wasn’t going to tell him to stop. “I was actually asking if you’re gonna take my head off for it, not if you mind. I feel gross and I haven’t exactly decompressed from the mission yet.”

“We can have sex if you want to decompress,” Bucky offered and watched Steve turn a shade of red he hadn’t turned since their first week together. It wasn't something he had planned to say, but now that the offer was out there, he found he didn't mind it at all. Steve was normally so composed, completely in control when they had sex. Bucky wondered if he could make him lose it this time, just deconstruct him bit by bit until all that was left was pleasure and not a single thought in his head.

“I thought you wanted dinner,” Steve squeaked, voice cracking.

“I’m hungry,” Bucky confirmed, staring at Steve. His hair was clumped a bit with sweat and his eyes were so round and huge. Yes, Bucky was practically starving.

“Okay then,” Steve loudly cleared his throat and Bucky wanted to smack himself in the forehead. Steve was definitely not catching onto Bucky’s signals. “I’ll go get clean, you start dinner.” Bucky realized Steve was still holding his hand when he lifted to his lips and kissed his palm. “I’m glad you’re staying.”

“Idiot,” Bucky mumbled, feeling his face heat up again.

Grinning at last, Steve walked away and Bucky was left alone to finally get dinner done. Food, Bucky reminded himself, he was supposed to make food. Not that he could focus on it even as he wandered into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and stared at the shelves of ingredients. He couldn't stop thinking of Steve. On the one hand he wanted him, his touch, to stay close and be cared for the way he had been until now. On the other, he hated that dependency. He had just gotten his freedom back, and his first instinct was to stay in the same situation. Change nothing. 

Was he so cowardly he couldn't even plan his own life? Was he so weak, so broken, he was unable to live on his own? It stirred an anger inside him he didn't want to feel. He wanted to be happy, free and unconcerned. He didn't want to feel those doubts. He wanted to be independent and what Steve had implied, what Steve wanted, felt too much like giving away what little power he had over himself. He hadn’t been free for five minutes before he found himself a crutch, somebody to take the burdens of decision away from him. Steve had even been the reason he escaped his triggers in the first place. He was just hiding behind someone better and taking all that was offered.

Bucky looked at the kitchen counter with unseeing eyes. Logically, he knew it couldn't be that simple. Steve had gone out of his way to help Bucky in whatever way he could. And he was grateful for that, would forever be grateful. Steve also made him better, made him care about himself. It was such a new thing, something he didn’t know he was still capable of. Yet, with Steve, sex felt good again. He was the only person Bucky knew he could rely on, would have his back when he’d thought he could never trust again. He didn't know what to do with himself, how to deal with these emotions see-sawing from fear and anger, to the warmth that Steve’s mere presence granted.

Placing his his hands on the counter, Bucky tried to organise his thoughts into something coherent. If he really thought about it, what terrified him was the loss of control being with Steve implied, how easy it would be to slide into old patterns. But shutting Steve out was just as scary. Yes, he could go back to a life where he was alone with his bitterness and shame, where there was no Steve to make him warm again, but that was even more unbearable.

Yet, it was clear Steve thought Bucky could just walk away. Would, even, given the first chance. All Bucky had done was take a shower, not mention he was cured, and Steve had thought he’d take the first person to cross his path. Like Steve meant nothing. Like coming here had meant nothing. Like Bucky wasn’t vulnerable, wasn’t sacrificing to stay.

He turned around and headed towards Steve’s bedroom, then into the bathroom. Steve had his back to Bucky, the steam from the shower turning the frosted glass milky white so only the silhouette of his body showed. Bucky closed the door quietly and leaned against it to admire the width of Steve’s shoulders, the unbelievable fragility of his hips, the long, lean length of his legs.

After all they had done together, Steve’s body was alien to him. Unfamiliar. They had had sex, but they hadn’t touched, not really. Not like Bucky wanted to, he realised. He knew so little about Steve, was intimidated by how well put together he was. It was a bitter pill, admitting that it was the sheer scope of success Steve had achieved that made him unsure. Steve had everything: friends, family, a job, a life, a _place_. What did Bucky have?

He watched Steve move and regretted, viscerally and bitterly, not letting himself explore him, get to know his body, when he had had the chance. In a way, Steve was a mystery. Bucky didn't know what Steve thought of their time together, didn't know what it would mean to Steve if he told him that what terrified him the most was Steve having so much power over him.

Letting his eyes slide over the trim, stunningly powerful figure, he felt heat pooling low in his belly. It was slow, just trickling, barely a first stirring of interest, and he fought the urge to laugh at himself. 

God, he wanted this man.

Despite all his fear and anger, when the chips were down, Bucky couldn’t bring himself to chose a life without Steve in it. Not when there was a choice at all. He rubbed at his face, inhaling the steamy air, and wished he knew what Steve felt, what he expected, what he wanted. Steve was always so composed whenever Bucky was a mess, it left him unreadable. 

Except for when he had thought Bucky was leaving.

Looking up slowly, Bucky took in Steve again. This time he looked and didn’t ogle. He hadn’t moved since Bucky walked in, leaning against the shower wall, his forehead pressed to the white tile. His eyes were closed, water pouring over his head and neck, running down his back. Though he’d come in here to get clean, he wasn’t making an effort to do so. Bucky wasn’t sure he had ever seen Steve be so still. He was always fidgeting or moving, but not now. Not that Bucky knew why.

It was now or never, and Bucky decided to act. He jerked the stall door open and stepped in, clothes and shoes swiftly soaked in the hot spray as he tangled his fingers into Steve’s short hair and pulled, forcing Steve’s body against him. Steve went, letting Bucky drag him back, letting Bucky manhandle him.

“Bucky?” Steve sputtered, eyes closed again.

Bucky whispered raggedly into his ear, keeping him pressed tight against Bucky’s chest, “I hate it that you have seen me shatter over and over, that you’ve seen me so low. That you were always so in control when I was a wreck.” Bucky closed his eyes, pressing his cheek against the wet side of Steve’s face. “And now you want me to admit I need you -”

“What?” 

“- that I can’t bare to think of leaving here, leaving you.” Tightening his hold in Steve’s hair, he felt Steve go pliant, and his throat tightened, strangling his voice. “I don't want anyone having so much power over me.” Bucky was so scared of falling so low again, so scared of wasting this second chance he’d been given. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Then stay. Bucky, just,” Steve pulled against his hold, but stopped fighting when Bucky’s grip didn’t budge. Bucky didn’t want to face him just yet. “Just stay. I don’t want you to go; I don’t _ever_ want you to go. I don’t have -” Steve swallowed hard. “I don’t want power over you, I just want you to stay.”

Bucky dug his fingers into Steve’s hip, the skin there smooth and hot from the water.

“Why? Why do you want me to stay?” 

“Why?” Steve laughed and Bucky felt his muscles tense, but he didn’t follow through on pulling away. “Jesus, Bucky. I’ve been half-in love with you since we were kids. You - _any_ you - just…” Bucky had to brace his feet as Steve leaned heavily against him. “God, just don’t leave.” 

“But I’m not the man you knew in the past,” he answered, inhaling Steve’s scent and the steam mixed together. “This body of mine, this mind, it’s all…” he hesitated, looking for a word that would describe what he felt most of the time. “... soiled.”

“The hell does that matter?” Steve demanded. “It’s _you_ , it’s always you. You never were a saint, you never were perfect, you’re _Bucky_. My Bucky. You understood me even when you didn’t know me, you don’t take my shit, you always… You make me happy, Buck. You’ve always made me happy.”

Bucky slid his hand from Steve’s hip to his stomach, spreading his palm over the hard muscles.

“I want,” he started, but stopped. He wasn’t sure how to put his desires into words.

“What?” Steve prompted. “Tell me what you want. I’ll give you anything I can.”

Bucky dragged his open palm up Steve’s stomach to his beautifully developed chest.

“This,” he murmured. “To touch you.” He cupped his hand around one pec. “To have you.” He pulled Steve even closer against himself and pressed his teeth briefly to Steve’s neck. “To have control.” He wanted to know what was under all that control, wanted to see the Steve that wasn’t the caretaker for once. Wanted to burrow under the hard shell and see the vulnerable parts. “To know you.” 

“Well,” Steve drawled and Bucky could hear the smile in his voice, “if you’re gonna ask for something easy, who am I to say no?”

“You’ve never shown me any weakness ‘til now,” Bucky murmured, dragging his hand down again, over the flat belly, through his curls, to take Steve’s half-hard cock in his hand.

“What are you talking about?” Steve muttered, but there was no heat to it. He was breathless, hips pushing into Bucky’s fist.

“You are always so in control,” Bucky shifted so that he could see over Steve’s shoulder, how his fist looked around Steve’s rapidly hardening cock. He could feel heat growing in his belly, spreading slowly, making his body come alive. “How about giving up some of it?”

“You told me to,” Steve argued, his cock growing thicker in Bucky’s hand. There was something extremely hot about the contrast of Steve’s naked body against his clothed one. “I only ever did what you told me to.”

“What?” 

“You told me to fuck you,” Steve panted, leaning his head into Bucky’s shoulder and the grip in his hair, “hold you down. So… I did. I… everything else, was to make sure I could keep doing it.”

Bucky stopped his stroking, but kept his hand closed tightly around Steve’s cock, feeling his warmth and the tiny twitches of Steve’s hips.

“All that time,” Bucky pressed his forehead to Steve’s shoulder, “I thought it was just something you did for me, to help me. Your desire… wasn’t a part of it at all.”

“Well, yeah, that was some of it,” Steve huffed, hips wriggling as he clearly wanted Bucky’s hand moving again, “but if I didn’t want you I wouldn’t have been able to do anything at all. It’s not like,” he blew out a breath and twisted his head enough to focus on Bucky, “it could have been all about pleasure. You didn’t even want it when we started.”

Bucky blew out his breath, dragging his forehead against the firm muscle of Steve’s shoulder. “I changed my mind,” he admitted. “I didn't even notice when.”

“Um,” Steve sighed, “listen, can we either have the heart-to-heart, or have sex? ‘Cause this is awkward and I’ve no clue what you’re talking about this time… Again.” 

Bucky laughed, irrationally charmed by Steve _complaining_. It was such a normal thing to do, so undignified, it made him chuckle by how much his view of Steve had changed as a result. 

“Don’t you laugh at me,” Steve said while laughing himself. “We can still have the heart-to-heart, but seriously: one or the other.”

Bucky untangled his metal fingers from the hair he had been tightly gripping and slid it down Steve’s wonderfully muscular back.

“I don’t know,” he teased. “It seems like all our more serious talks happened in similar circumstances.” His hand mapped out the dips and valleys of Steve’s stunning physique. He couldn't imagine ever seeing anyone quite as beautiful as Steve.

“Not when you were holding my dick they didn’t.”

“Semantics,” Bucky teased, sliding his hand to the unfairly tiny ass and taking hold of one cheek.

“That’s not semantics,” Steve pushed his ass into Bucky’s hand, “You are literally holding my dick.”

“I want to fuck you,” Bucky murmured, hovering his fingers over Steve's crack, but not venturing further.

Turning his head, Steve brushed his lips along Bucky’s jaw, and purred, “Then fuck me.”

Bucky chuckled again, feeling surprisingly light-hearted and alive, as if this, Steve complaining and challenging him, was a cure for all his ills.

“Again with the controlling attitude,” Bucky teased, sliding his fingers between those tight cheeks and rubbing them carefully over the sensitive skin he found there. His heartbeat was picking up and he licked his lips.

“Best I can do,” Steve gasped, head falling back to Bucky’s shoulder as his eyes closed. 

Bucky pressed his lips to the side of Steve’s neck, lapped the water from the skin there, taking the taste of Steve’s skin with it.

“Lube?” he asked. He knew they had supplies for him, but didn’t feel like going back to his room for them. Steve was always the one to bring the supplies with him, so it stood to reason he had more squirreled away somewhere.

“Under the sink.” 

It was uncomfortable, walking out of the shower with wet clothes sticking to his skin, the cotton turned hard and rough, and Bucky didn’t want to lose the feeling of Steve, hot and soft, pressed against his clothed body. Little thrills shot down his spine and curled in his belly as he found the stash under the sink, and grabbed the bottle. Bucky was back inside the steamy shower as soon as he got it open, slicking his fingers. He felt another thrill because Steve hadn’t moved beyond resting his palms on the tiled wall. His feet were spread just enough to keep his balance. 

“God, you are so beautiful right now,” Bucky said as he plastered his body against Steve’s back once more. “The hottest man I have ever met.”

Sliding his flesh hand over Steve’s cheeks and between then, his slick fingers found the tiny hole and rubbed. 

“What’s with the compliments suddenly?” 

Bucky turned his eyes to him and noticed there was more pink in his face than the water would have caused. He slid one of the fingers against that furl of muscle in, breath hitching at the tight, hot clutch of Steve’s body. He pressed himself closer, his whole length plastered to Steve, the wet cotton separating them making it all the more exciting for Bucky.

“I have seen many bodies,” he whispered against the skin of Steve’s shoulder, darting his tongue to taste. “But your’s is different.” He scraped his teeth carefully up, along his long neck. “ _You_ are different.”

Steve took one hand off the tile and reached back, tangling his fingers in Bucky's hair, then tugging until he could look at Bucky's face.

“Nobody like you,” Steve said roughly before pulling Bucky in for a kiss, slow and deep. Not like any they had shared yet. Steve didn't hesitate, didn't hold back; he opened his mouth to Bucky, pressed his tongue inside Bucky’s, and thrust with slow, suggestive motions that made it clear what Steve wanted from him. Bucky kissed back, letting another finger sneak into Steve, stretching him the same as he fucked Bucky’s mouth. The tightness was driving him slowly insane, the muted sensation of water hitting his clothes and the pressure of Steve’s body around his fingers stealing his breath just as surely as the kiss.

Bucky might have rushed the third finger, but Steve didn't protest, just grunted and kept kissing him, his fingers gripping Bucky's hair, holding him in place. He wrapped his other hand around Steve’s body, touched the slick plane of Steve’s belly down to the straining, thick cock that all but jumped under his touch. Steve’s hips twitched and thrust into his hand before jerking back, nearly impaling himself on Bucky's fingers and Bucky was _done_ ; was just so completely done. 

There was no shred of patience left anymore, just the desire to get inside Steve. He tried to break the kiss, but Steve didn’t let him, his fingers iron in his hair, a hint of teeth scolding him that he had even tried to end it. Bucky surged back into the meeting of lips. Now fighting not to break the kiss, Bucky opened his pants, pushing the clothes down just enough not to get in the way. There wasn’t really much slick left on his hand, but he hoped it would be enough as he spread what was left on his cock, strangling a moan that threatened to escape him at the sensation. He pressed the head of his cock to Steve’s hole. It felt soft against him, twitching a little. 

Steve tightened the hold he had on Bucky’s hair and pulled, making Bucky hiss. Taking the cue, Bucky pressed in. He went slowly, groaning right into Steve’s mouth at the sensation of the entrance to Steve’s body giving in, the ring of muscle slowly stretching to accommodate Bucky. Then there was tight heat enveloping him, making him dizzy with pleasure. Clumsily and a bit awkwardly, Bucky fumbled for Steve’s cock, dragging his palm over the silky hardness of it and swallowed Steve’s corresponding moan. Steve had never let go of him, hadn't let him break the kiss, and kept going even when Bucky started thrusting. With the position, Bucky didn't have much leverage, and Steve wasn’t about to let him go, but he still managed to angle himself to so short, sharp gasps left Steve at every thrust, the cock in his hand jerking when he hit Steve’s prostate. 

It was so _good._ The pleasure built like an ever-tightening coil in his stomach, the sounds of the water, of their flesh slapping wetly together, the smell of steam and Steve: all of it was perfect. The kiss, now down to messy licks and panting into each other’s mouths, was making Bucky heart race. He thrust faster, as fast as he could, grinding into Steve's heat and moaning like a man possessed. He tried to hold on, tried to make it last, but couldn’t. Not with Steve around his cock, in his mouth, in his nose. It was too good, too much, and Bucky gave in, letting the tension break. He pressed as deeply into Steve as he could, his whole body tightening and then releasing, as he pumped his release into his lover. His lungs seized, his eyes went blind, and jaw slack. He could only moan into Steve’s mouth for endless moments as he came and came and _came_.

When Bucky felt himself return to the present, body and mind wrung out, Steve was kissing his lips, hasty, desperate kisses that betrayed his own frustration as he pushed back at Bucky, bearing down against his rapidly softening cock. It had Bucky whimpering because it had felt so good, and it was ending on too much. He gathered himself enough to wrap his hand around Steve’s cock again, the flesh hard and desperate, and started stroking. He didn't tease, didn't draw this out, just gave Steve pressure and something to thrust into. It didn't take long, just a few strokes and Steve was keening, high and loud, against Bucky’s lips asbhot come splattered against Bucky’s palm in thick streams. Steve’s ass clenched on Bucky’s almost-soft cock, making him moan in turn, and slip free.

Bucky had no idea how long they stood there, just trying to regain their bearings enough to do anything other than pant helplessly, minds reeling with pleasure. His own body was loose and sated, every muscle relaxed into a pleasant lassitude he hadn't known he could experience. 

Steve stirred first, shifting in his arms to shuffle around to face Bucky after turning the water off. His eyes were still liquid and gentle, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he looked at Bucky’s shirt plastered to his body.

“You going to undress now?” Steve asked, tugging at the soaked cotton.

Bucky cleared his throat.

“Yeah, just as soon as I figure out how to get out of my clothes with any semblance of dignity,” he admitted bashfully, all too aware his pants were now bunched around his ankles.

Steve was obviously holding in a laugh.

“I think that might be a lost cause.” 

“Some supportive boyfriend you are,” Bucky muttered, trying to wriggle out of the wet shirt.

“I am,” Steve nodded, his voice a little hoarse as he reached to help Bucky with the wet clothes. “I mean I will. Support you, that is.” He looked into Bucky’s eyes, honest and sweet. “Whatever you need.”

Bucky let his shirt land on the bottom of the stall with a loud splat and reached to cover Steve’s hand, still on his arm, with his own.

“Yeah,” he murmured, “I think it got through to me finally.”

Steve smiled, a soft, vulnerable thing and slid his free hand into Bucky’s hair to pull him into the softest of kisses.

“Welcome home,” he whispered against Bucky’s lips and Bucky closed his eyes, inhaling the scent of them still lingering in the humid air.

“I’m home.”

 

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> [Follow Cleo on Tumblr ](http://cleo4u2.tumblr.com/)
> 
> [Follow Xantissa on Tumblr ](http://xantissa.tumblr.com/)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Acts of Kindness](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14274732) by [lobst_r](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lobst_r/pseuds/lobst_r)




End file.
